


do you feel us falling? (cause i feel us falling)

by babytobin_horse



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-10 16:59:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 34,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6996817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babytobin_horse/pseuds/babytobin_horse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lexa looks down into her drink, attempting to hide a bashful smile. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and Clarke suddenly finds the whole sight helplessly endearing. How could this girl go from formal and proper and in control to shy and slightly reserved so quickly?</p><p>Or: Clarke is pre-med and an artist while Lexa is somewhat of a college soccer superstar with a secret love for poetry (They're both dumb and clueless, but they like each other anyway.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. impossible is not french

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first work for t100 so I hope it turned out well. I'd like to take a moment to thank Theresa for being ever so patient with me and helping me bounce ideas back and forth, and also Ayana & squad for letting me send them snippets of it throughout this whole process. give me feedback if you'd like!

Clarke hates group projects.

Well, rather she hates relying on other people for a grade. Not that she doesn’t like people, it’s just that if she’s going to be graded on something, she’d rather get a bad grade for something she did instead of for something that isn’t even her fault. It’s not her fault some people don’t seem to care enough. She needs to do well in all her classes considering she’s on the pre-med track. With two semesters already finished, she’s finding it a little harder to breathe when she realizes her every single grade matters if she wants to get into a good medical school when she’s finished with her four years here.

Speaking of being pre-med, Clarke doesn’t understand why she has to take stupid classes such as a foreign language class. Which is where she finds herself right now. It’s only three weeks into the class and Clarke can barely put a full sentence together in French, but her professor’s already talking about a semester-long group project that’s worth a pretty large chunk of their grade. She should’ve taken something more reasonable like Spanish (not that she knows much of it anyway, but she’s sure Raven could help her had she enrolled in that course) but at the time french sounded intriguing and maybe worth her time.

“Do we get to choose our partners?” A boy in the back asks rather loudly when the professor finishes handing out the guidelines and explaining them.

Their professor smiles and shakes his head. “Sorry Matthew, you don’t. I’ve already pre-assigned your partners for this project.”

Great, so not only does Clarke have to rely on someone else, but she also has to anxiously depend on them all semester. She inwardly groans, wondering why she hadn’t looked this professor up on Rate My Professor before deciding to enroll in this class.

She taps her fingers absentmindedly against her notebook as her professor begins to list off the pairs. The blonde prays that whoever she’s paired up with has a brain and is at least willing to put effort into this project.

“Clarke Griffin and Alexandria Woods.”

Clarke’s eyes snap up and wander across the room, trying to find this Alexandria Woods. What she finds is green eyes gazing at her from four desks away. She’s pretty, Clarke notes. Not that it has anything to do with the project; she’s just observing. The girl has long brown hair swept up in a loose ponytail and soft facial features. She’s dressed in black shorts and a white top that reads _Georgetown Soccer_ across the middle of her shirt in dark blue. Clarke resists raising an eyebrow because she’s not sure how to feel that she’s been paired up with an athlete.

Alexandria offers a slight smile which Clarke does her best to return, but she’s already thinking of all the ways she’s going to have to possibly make up for the shit that this girl will definitely not do because she’s currently in season.

(Clarke only knows this because her childhood friend Octavia Blake is a freshmen on the team.)

“All right, for the last ten minutes of class I’ll let you meet with your partners to exchange emails and numbers and get to know each other a little,” the professor announces once he’s read off all the names on his list.

Once again Clarke turns her head to look at her partner and is just about to ask whether she should go over to her, but Alexandria’s already gathering her things just as the kid sitting next to Clarke leaves his desk. She awkwardly waits as the brunette makes her way towards her, easily sliding into the now empty seat next to Clarke.

“Hey,” Clarke says.

“Hello,” Alexandria replies, giving her another small smile. “You’re Octavia’s friend, right?”

Furrowing her eyebrows in slight confusion, Clarke nods slowly. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“I’ve seen you guys wandering around campus,” she explains. “And I believe she’s brought you up once or twice. You two know each other from home, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I’ve known her and her brother since I was a kid.”

Clarke smiles slightly at the thought of her, Octavia and Bellamy back home before college. Bellamy, a year older than Clarke, was off at Columbia, on his way to being an engineer now, but it was nice having Octavia, only a year younger, here. It felt like home wasn’t so far away.

The brunette notices the way Clarke’s eyes brighten and her smile becomes more genuine and grows a softer smile. “Octavia’s a great girl, a good player too. You can call me Lexa, by the way,” she adds. “Alexandria’s just my full name.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you Lexa,” Clarke says, trying to get the feel of this girl. She figures she can just ask Octavia later since they probably spend lots of time together.

“You too Clarke,” Lexa nods. “I would like to do well with this project, I hope you do too.”

“I feel the same,” the blonde replies immediately, feeling so much more relieved. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

As they hand off phones to exchange numbers, Clarke notices the way Lexa presents herself. Her sentences sound so eloquent and almost formal. she poses her body with purpose, as if there’s nothing in the world she can’t do. Clarke finds herself strangely entranced by it all.

“Once you’ve exchanged information you’re free to go!” The professor calls out from his desk.

“There you go,” Clarke says, handing Lexa her phone back. “We should meet sometime this week and figure out a plan?”

Lexa nods, giving Clarke her phone back as well. “I have practice right after this class and I’ll be in Virginia this weekend for a set of games, but I will make sure to text you so we can plan it all out.”

“Yeah sure,” the blonde nods, picking up her backpack as Lexa stands. She follows suit and slings her bag onto her shoulder.

“I’ll see you around Clarke,” she promises, offering a small smile and a nod before making her way out of the room and off to practice, Clarke assumes.

As Clarke makes her way out of the room, she figures perhaps this group project won’t be so bad at all with someone like Lexa.

* * *

“YES LEXA!” She hears behind her as the ball swishes as it collides with the back of the net.

The forward merely smiles, jogging back to the middle of the field as the other team on the field switches out with the team that was on the outside, waiting to be rotated in. Practice is her favorite part of the day. Although it’s still September and the humidity is something she could live without, she loves the smell of grass and the sound of her cleats hitting the ball as she moves forward. There’s nothing else she’d rather be doing right now, not in this moment. This is all she thinks about for the time being.

“Getting that hat trick this weekend, Lexa?” Echo asks, smirking from her position on the field.

“Maybe,” Lexa only shrugs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears.

“She’s done it before!” Another teammate points out, grinning widely at the younger girl.

The forward simply rolls her eyes good naturedly at the two of them and doesn’t bother responding as the ball is put back in play. All that matters is the ball, her teammates and the goal.

Her teammates weren’t wrong, really. Lexa simply has a knack for finding the back of the net, such as a forward should. If anyone were to ask her, she’d just say she’s doing her job, that she’s doing what she loves and wants to do what’s best for the team. Anyone with eyes can tell Lexa’s better than most forwards, and Georgetown did a good job of recruiting her. As only a sophomore, she’s already on track to being the team’s leading goal scorer in the program’s history. Last season, she was named to the Big East Freshman Team as well as awarded Big East freshman of the year, leading the team in not only goals, but also assists. She found herself a spot on the starting XI, starting and playing almost every minute of all 20 games, the only freshman to do so last season.

So in short, Lexa is kind of a big deal. A natural goal scorer and a natural leader despite being one of the youngest on the team.

Not that Lexa would ever admit to any of this. She’s much too humble.

She heads another one into the top corner of the goal, the ball barely skimming the goalkeeper’s fingers. As she finds her footing on the ground, their coach claps his hands together.

“Alright, let’s call it a day. Cool down and roll out,” he tells them.

The team herds over to their belongings, each of the girls sitting down by her own bag. Lexa sits in front of her bag, “Georgetown Soccer” embroidered on the front pocket with #12 below. As she begins to take off her gear, her mind begins to wander and somehow she ends up thinking about french class and Clarke.

Clarke.

So maybe Lexa already knew her name before they’d been paired up together. Maybe she’d known exactly what Clarke looked like, and that she sat right next to the window, four seats away from her.

It’s not Lexa’s fault she noticed the cute blonde on the first day of class.

(She totally doesn’t have a crush on Clarke, by the way. She doesn’t even know her at all. She’s just cute, that’s all.)

 

> _Your beautiful flame of pulchritude_
> 
> _Doth dizzy me high_

(She’s allowed to appreciate Clarke Griffin’s attractiveness. It’s a normal human thing.)

“Hey Woods, you there?”

Lexa blinks out of her daze, finding none other than the small defender Octavia Blake. The freshmen is perched on her roller, in the midst of rolling out her calf. She’s looking at Lexa curiously, as if she’s trying to understand what’s going on in her mind.

The forward shakes her head just to be safe.

“Yes, I’m fine Octavia,” she responds, ducking her head so Octavia doesn’t see the way her cheeks slightly flushed despite already being pink from the heat and the exercise.

“Okay,” Octavia says slowly. “You just zoned out a little bit.”

“Probably daydreaming about all the goals she’s going to score,” someone teases from behind Lexa.

The sophomore rolls her eyes, turning to face whoever spoke. “ _Dream is a compass that shows only one aspired direction - success, success and more success._ ”

“Oh how we love your poetry,” a senior laughs as she passes by, giving Lexa a soft pat on the head. “Who was that one from?”

“John Tiong Chunghoo,” Lexa informs her, sliding on her running shoes.

Octavia raises her eyebrows. “Are you an English major?”

The senior snorts. “She should be.”

Lexa only rolls her eyes, ignoring the way her teammates endearingly tease her about her fascination with poetry.

There’s nothing wrong with it, really. In fact, Lexa’s surprised more people aren’t just as fascinated as she is. She loves everything about poets and poems and the beautiful ways feelings and thoughts are able to be conveyed in words. She could spends hours reading poetry, reading about how people have felt, the things others would never understand. How beautiful and intricately woven the words can be put down to paper to create something so powerful, so intriguing.

It’s so consuming that sometimes, poetry just slips out of her.

“We’re just teasing Lex,” Echo says as Lexa stands.

“I know,” she nods, then scrunches her nose. “I’m still not a fan of that nickname. Lexa is already a nickname, you know.”

“One day you’ll just be L.”

“No thank you,” Lexa huffs, feeling all sweaty and gross and in need of nothing more than a shower.

* * *

Clarke flops down onto the couch in her and Raven’s apartment. It’s small and a little cramped, but Clarke finds it pretty homey. She’s really soaking in the home feeling now as she lets out a sigh and closes her eyes, letting herself relax into the seat of the couch. There’s so much homework waiting for her at her desk, but she doesn’t even want to think about it right now. She just wants to enjoy this moment of peace and quiet and _nothingness_ for a few more minutes.

Silence only lasts so long in this household.

“CLARKE IS THAT YOU?”

“No,” the blonde grunts into the couch. “I’m not home.”

She hears skipping (maybe stomping because Raven’s boots are just so fucking loud) from the hallway coming closer and knows Raven is quickly approaching her. Clarke keeps her eyes closed and her head in the couch, hoping Raven will leave her alone.

It’s hopeless.

“I knew I heard the door!” Raven says - mainly to herself - as she approaches. She slaps Clarke’s thigh, eliciting a grunt from her. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Because you haven’t,” Clarke points out. “I was on campus all day, genius.”

She sighs, shifting on the couch so she can look at Raven. The girl’s looking at her with hands on her hips and her signature slight smirk that seems to be permanently etched onto her face. Her hands her covered in black and Clarke can only wonder what the mechanic’s been up to all afternoon.

“I know it’s been so lonely without you,” Raven says rather dramatically, throwing her hands up in the air.

Clarke rolls her eyes, used to her roommate’s antics by now. “Did you cook something for dinner?”

Raven’s eyes widen as her hands drop. “Um, about that...I thought you were bringing home take out?”

“Raven!” The blonde sighs, sitting up now. “Octavia’s coming over for dinner, remember? You said you were going to cook?”

“Oh shit,” the other girl mumbles, shaking her head. “Oops?”

“Dammit,” Clarke mutters, glaring at her half-heartedly. “Let me just call Octavia and tell her to bring some take out. You’re paying her back,” she instructs.

“Yes mom,” Raven sticks her tongue out at her.

Clarke wonders how she’s ended up with such a childish roommate, and how she willingly agreed to buy an apartment with her a year later. Deep down she knows the answer. She knows how Raven was so friendly and easy-going, and that was exactly what Clarke had needed. Moving away to college only months after her dad passed away, Raven never pushed her to talk about it. She never asked Clarke questions, and when Clarke would cry in the middle of the night Raven would only hold her or stand in front of her bed with a bottle of alcohol to drown her sorrows and numb them for awhile.

Because the thing about Raven is she understands pain. She knows what it’s like to lose people, what it’s like to feel alone and what it’s like to be too scared to feel anything. In her nineteen years Clarke knows she’s seen and experienced things no girl should have to face alone, and Clarke wishes she could help Raven unsee those things. Georgetown was Raven’s ticket out, so she took it and ran.

It was like she and Clarke found each other at the perfect time. Raven’s practically family to her now, and she knows even though she rolls her eyes and has to sometimes mother Raven when it comes to her life decisions, she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.  


“Octavia this food is so good,” Raven praises as she shoves another forkful of chinese takeout into her mouth.

The freshman gives Raven a strange look before replying, “You realize I didn’t cook it, right? I went to the place down the street.”

The only reply is a satisfied groan from Raven as she continues to eat. Octavia eyes her warily then turns to Clarke seated next to Raven. “Your roommate’s weird.”

“Yeah, I’m not too sure she’s human,” Clarke teases, lightly shoving Raven with her shoulder.

“Hey watch it, Princess,” the brunette threatens before shoving another spoonful into her mouth. She looks at Octavia and mumbles, “You too kid.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Ignore her. Anyway, how are you adjusting?”

Octavia shrugs. “I’m good I guess. Classes are okay and soccer’s intense, but I like it.”

The smaller girl’s been playing soccer for as long as Clarke can remember. She remembers how toddler Octavia would see Bellamy in the backyard with his friends kicking a soccer ball and drop whatever she was playing with at the time to run over and join in. She remembers how Octavia would beat Bellamy and his friends, being quick on the ball at such a young age. Soccer’s in the girl’s blood and Clarke admires her for it.

“Aren’t you going to Virginia this weekend?” The blonde asks, remembering how Lexa mentioned it earlier.

“Well, I don’t know if I’m going for sure yet,” Octavia explains. “There’s twenty-five girls on the team and he can only take eighteen to twenty. I don’t find out until Thursday if I’m traveling.”

“That sucks,” Raven pipes up. “You can’t even plan your weekends then.”

“I’ve traveled for most of them,” Octavia waves it off, then raises an eyebrow back at Clarke. “Wait, how do you even know that?”

Clarke shrugs, picking at her food. “Lexa told me this morning.”

“Lexa?” Octavia asks, eyebrows raising even higher. “You’re friends with Lexa Woods?”

“Isn’t she the really hot one that’s really good?”

Clarke ignores Raven as she explains, “She’s in my French class. We’re paired up for a project this semester.”

“She’s smart,” Octavia tells her. “And like ridiculously good at soccer. Like, she’s the best in our conference and she’s only a sophomore.” She then looks at Raven with a slight smirk. “And to answer the second part of your question yes, Raven. She’s hot.”

Raven nods approvingly, wiggling her eyebrows at Clarke. “Get in there, Griffin!”

The blonde scoffs at Raven’s suggestion. “We’re literally just working on a project. I don’t even know her.”

Not that there was anything wrong with Lexa. So far she seems nice enough, and is willing to put work into their project. Also Raven isn’t wrong either. Lexa’s without a doubt attractive, but Clarke isn’t looking too deep into it. She just met the girl less than twelve hours ago, there were other things on her mind.

(She won’t admit that night the first thing she sees when she closes her eyes is green.)

* * *

Lexa’s early. Of course she’s early, she always is - for everything. She’s seated in the corner of the on campus Starbucks, waiting for the barista to call out her order. Last night she’d sent Clarke a text letting her know she was going to be leaving for Virginia Thursday afternoon, and that if she wanted to meet to discuss their project to let Lexa know when she has free time so they could arrange it.

So here she was the next day waiting for Clarke to get out of class so they could discuss their project. She hits the button on her phone to check the time (and for any missed texts from Clarke - this part she won’t admit) and figures Clarke should be leaving class right now.

“Grande mint majesty herbal tea for Lexa!” The barista calls out as she sets the drink onto the counter.

Lexa stands, leaving her belongings at the table and walking over to retrieve her drink. Just as she picks up the warm beverage, the door opens and Clarke walks in. She’s wearing tight dark wash jeans with black boots and a forest green bomber jacket over a grey t-shirt.

The brunette tries to remember how to breathe.

(She’s allowed to admire how good Clarke looks. It’s natural. That’s all.)

Clarke’s blue eyes wander the area until they fall on Lexa, who’s halfway between the counter and the table she’d saved for them. Lexa tries her best not to suck in a breath when she realizes Clarke’s looking at her and instead musters up a small smile. She nods over to the table she had been walking back to, the one with her backpack and phone left unattended and Clarke begins to make her way over, sending Lexa a smile back.

 

> _.seeing your smile.._
> 
> _..a spirit entered inside this poet to flesh these lines.._
> 
> _.. for these lines ran like blood in his body.._
> 
> _..and he found the key to the secret of all languages.._
> 
> _..that he had always wanted to unlock.._

Lexa shakes her head, as if to rid the words that came across her mind. She doesn’t need poetry to spill from her lips during this encounter. She takes her seat just as the blonde approaches.

“Hey,” Clarke says, setting her backpack and books down across from Lexa. “Have you been here long?”

“Just a few minutes,” Lexa says easily, despite knowing very well she’d arrived ten minutes early. “Go ahead and order yourself a drink.”

The blonde nods and grabs her wallet. “Great, I’ll be right back.”  


Clarke returns a few minutes later, her drink quickly made for her so that she’s able to grab it before making it back to Lexa. The girl has the handout of the project guidelines in one hand and a pen in her other hand. Her notebook is open on the table to a fresh new page and she looks over the guidelines. Her hair is down today and it falls over her shoulder as she leans over to read the paper. Her lips are slightly pursed and her eyebrows and knitted together as she reads.

It’s actually kind of cute.

“So, what do you have so far?” She asks, sitting down across from the forward.

Lexa looks up and Clarke meets those green eyes she can’t seem to shake from her memory. “Well, there’s a lot of material expected for this project.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Clarke sighs. “We don’t even know half of this stuff yet. This is going to be impossible.”

“ _Impossible n’est pas français._ ”

Clarke almost spits out her drink as her eyebrows rise. If she’s hearing correctly, she just heard Lexa Woods speak French effortlessly. “What was that?”

The girl just offers a shrug. “The French say it all the time. It means ‘There’s no such thing as can’t,’ or, in literal word-for-word translation, ‘Impossible is not French.’”

The blonde is looking at her as if she’s grown a second head and Lexa wonders why she’s so amazed by the few words she’d spoken. Clarke’s jaw is slightly dropped and her eyes are so wide Lexa wonders if they’re the same size as quarters.

“Have you lost your words, Clarke?” She teases, quirking an eyebrow upward with the question.

The question seems to snap Clarke back to life.

(Or it could be the way Lexa said her name, maybe.)

“No, I-um,” she says, looking thoroughly confused and Lexa must admit it’s a bit amusing. “I just didn’t know you were fluent in French? Why are you taking first semester if you already know it? Why not go to a higher level or just skip the language requirement all together?”

Lexa laughs softly, shaking her head. Clarke thinks that laugh is one of the best sounds she’s ever heard. It’s so gentle and sweet, she wasn’t aware something could come out of a girl who seemed so mysterious.

“I’m not fluent. My family has been to France a few times over the summers,” she explains, putting the handout down. “I picked up a few phrases from my time there, but it’s not anything sufficient enough for me to bypass all foreign language classes.”

“Oh,” is all Clarke can say.

Lexa takes a sip of her warm tea, not even hiding the amused expression she holds knowing she’s thrown Clarke off with a few foreign words. Her eyebrows are raised in contentment and her lips are trying to hide a smug smile.

Clarke notices the smugness and finds herself only more interested in the brunette. As professional and formal as she comes across, the girl’s got a playful side. It just takes a little tugging to find it.

“Well okay _big shot_ ,” she says easily, finally able to overcome her stuttering and stumbling. “Looks like we’ll do well on this project, then.”

“Big shot?” The brunette wonders, quirking an eyebrow as one side of her lips tilted upward.

Okay, maybe that was a little adorable.

The blonde shrugs, taking another sip of her drink. “You’re all Miss ‘I’ve Been to France’ over here,” she explains, waving her hands around for effect. “Plus, word on the street is you’re something like, ‘ridiculously good at soccer,’ I think is how Octavia put it.”

Lexa looks down into her drink, attempting to hide a bashful smile. Her cheeks are slightly flushed and Clarke suddenly finds the whole sight helplessly endearing. How could this girl go from formal and proper and _in control_ to shy and slightly reserved so quickly?

“Octavia’s too kind,” she says with a soft laugh. “I just love what I do.”

“And apparently you’re good at it,” Clarke points out. “Octavia doesn’t go around complimenting everyone, you know.”

The forward only shrugs, taking a sip of her drink.  “Perhaps you’ll have to come to a game so you can find out,” Lexa tells her with a quirk of her lips and her eyebrows to match.

There’s light in her eyes that makes the green more vibrant than Clarke’s seen before. It could be the light hitting her just right, but Clarke believes it’s something else. Something more in Lexa that she’s yet to discover.

Suddenly Clarke’s itching to reach into her backpack and grab the spare sketch pad she carries around with her. Her fingers are dying to grab the tin of pencils along with it, they know which one to choose. Every part of her being knows the best way to capture the sight in front of her: the way green shines ever so brightly, the way Lexa’s giving a ghost of a smirk, the way her eyebrows are just doing that _thing_ that almost eggs Clarke on like a challenge.

But instead, Clarke only sips her drink as replies with, “We’ll see, Woods.”

(She’s furiously working in her sketch pad when Raven comes home all greased up and blackened from whatever she’s been working on.)

(Clarke quickly closes her sketch pad and pretends she was doing homework.)

* * *

They’re friends.

Kind of.

Not really.

Lexa doesn’t know.

They say hello to each other when they first get to their french class. Sometimes, they’ll work together on in-class partner assignments - which, by the way, is much better than the boy who Lexa worked with the first few weeks of class (he had absolutely zero clue what was happening and Lexa’ thinks he’s a freshman anyway). On days where Lexa isn’t rushing to get to practice, they both linger a little until they’re leaving the classroom at the same time and make small talk.

Clarke’s funny, Lexa decides. And she’s very intelligent. Sometimes, she’s even a bit of a smartass.

Lexa likes her. A lot.

“What’s her name?”

Lexa blinks, her thought process being broken by the sudden voice. Ink was flowing to paper without Lexa even truly processing what she was writing. It just _happened_ , like always.

 

> _The hole in my heart is so big,_
> 
> _Room enough for the sky to pass through_
> 
> _Holding Jupiter’s hand._
> 
> _I can fill it wi_

The dot of the _i_ looks more like a dashed line due to the interruption of the somewhat cocky voice behind her, but Lexa pays no mind to it. Instead she lifts her head and turns to face her older sister, who’s giving Lexa a slightly amused expression.

“What ever can I assist you with, Anya?” she asks, feigning affection and concern.

Anya only snorts, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before moving around the kitchen to the living room where Lexa’s perched herself on the couch of their small but rather well set up apartment. “The girl who’s got you constantly writing in that thing.”

Lexa scoffs, slamming her notebook shut before crossing her arms. “Poetry is not just about crushes and love, you know.”

“I know,” the older one almost groans, plopping onto the couch next to her sister as she reaches for the remote. “You never let me forget.”

Feeling somewhat satisfied with the answer, the forward gives her a cheeky smile.

“You’re not answering my question,” Anya points out, letting her long manicured nails tap along the remote.

“Who said I was writing about a girl?” Lexa argues, trying not to give her sister the satisfaction she’s looking for.

Anya only looks at her with a raised eyebrow as if to say _Really_? They both know how it goes, but Lexa refuses to admit it. If there’s anyone on this earth that knows Lexa the best, it’s Anya. All the years they’ve spent sharing bedrooms and now sharing an apartment has made them undeniably close, especially the first couple of years after losing their parents.

In reality, Anya was the only family she really had left in the world. Sure they fought and quarreled like sisters do, but no matter what Anya was here. She was more than delighted that Lexa chose to attend Georgetown, committing to the soccer team her junior year. At the time Anya had just started her job in DC, but soon enough she’d been able to find a place for the two of them, insisting that Lexa live with her.

And really, Lexa kind of looked up to Anya. She’d always wanted to be like Anya when she was younger. There was just something about Anya that screamed “badass” and maybe “scary” at times, but it was all alluring.

“Lexa.”

“Anya.”

“Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” Lexa insists, placing her notebook and pen on the coffee table. “Not everything is about a girl.”

“Okay fine don’t tell me,” her sister sighs dramatically, sinking into the couch. “But I’m right.”

She is. They both know she is. Anya wants to push harder, to find out who’s making Lexa extra poetic and dazed out. It’s been so long since she’s seen Lexa like this, since she’s been able to smile because of someone. The smile Anya’s noticed on Lexa’s face recently is a smile she wasn’t sure she’d see anytime soon, or ever with all the crying and the simple fragile state Lexa had been in right after things went south.

Which also makes Anya question this new flame. What will make it different than before? Will this girl hurt Lexa like the last? She feels the need to protect her younger sister as she has many times before, but Anya knows she can only do so much because once Lexa falls, she falls hard and fast. It’s so reckless, but there’s still beauty and grace in how she goes about it. As if her love itself is a poem.

She’s worried. She’s intrigued. She’s excited.

She’s Lexa’s older sister.

“Sure you are,” the forward smiles cheekily, patting Anya’s knee. “Now turn on the TV, we have to catch up on our shows.”

(Lexa’s fingers tap quietly on the couch as her mind screams the lines she hadn’t written down yet.)

 

> _I can fill it with a mountain._
> 
> _I can fill it with a name._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poems used:  
> "Beautiful One" by Mark R. Slaughter  
> "Hold On To Your Dream" by John Tiong Chunghoo  
> "Your Smile" by Rigzin Namgyal  
> "The Piano" by Aracelis Girmay


	2. forgiveness with teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> French is hard for Clarke, Lexa's really good at soccer, and Anya is the most annoying big sister ever.

Clarke tells Lexa they should study for their upcoming French quiz together. She figures that it’s something that friends do, and Lexa’s good at French while Clarke is still endlessly clueless so it’ll be better than attempting to study on her own (which Clarke is sure will end in a failing grade).

They meet at the library on a Wednesday night. Lexa’s arrives earlier - no surprise - and finds them a small study room so they’re able to practice speaking and go over lessons with each other without interrupting other people. Clarke’s never been this deep in the library and for a moment she’s lost, but she quickly finds her way after following some kid with a big backpack to the back of the building, where the separate study rooms await her.

“Did you get lost?” Lexa innocently asks when Clarke enters the room rather briskly.

Clarke lets out a soft grunt, dropping her backpack to the ground and slumping into the chair on the opposite side of the table from Lexa. “No, of course not.”

The brunette gives her an open-mouthed smile, clearly amused by this frazzled state. “Oh really? You’re ten minutes late, and I know you don’t like being this late.”

She looks at Lexa, taking her in for a moment. The forward’s in an oversized navy Georgetown sweater, making her look smaller than she actually is. Her hair’s up in a messy bun, most likely haphazardly thrown up before making her way over to the library, keeping her hair out of her face (although there are strands that have slipped since then). She’s wearing big glasses with thick light brown rims, and although they could be considered dorky, somehow they fit her just right. It’s obvious Lexa hasn’t put any effort in her appearance, but Clarke thinks it’s one of the best sights she’s ever seen.

“Yeah well,” Clarke slightly huffs with a scowl, pulling out her French textbook and notes from her backpack. “This library’s bigger than I realized.”

Lexa laughs softly, and Clarke’s scowl softens at the sound. Everything softens a little when she looks up and sees Lexa’s big eyes looking at her in amusement. She’s found that she likes hearing Lexa’s laugh, and that she doesn’t hear it enough. Sometimes she’ll even make it a point to try to get Lexa to laugh when they talk - she finds herself more successful than not.

“Well in that case I’m glad you found me,” Lexa tells her with a hint of a tease in her voice. “Wouldn’t want you wandering around forever.”

“Thanks for your concern Lexa,” Clarke deadpans, rolling her eyes as she flips her textbook open to the right page. “Now please help me study for this quiz, I have no clue where to begin.”   
  


“Okay, give me the conjugation for  _ aimer _ .”

“All of them?”

“Yes, all of them.”

“ _ Je aime _ -”

“It’s  _ j’aime _ , Clarke.  _ J’aime _ , not  _ Je. Aime. _ It’s two vowels right next to each other. Remember the liaison?”

“French has stupid rules.”

“So does English.”

“But I  _ know _  English!”

“Not the point.”

“So would it be  _ t’aimes _ for  _ tu _ ?”

“No. It’s  _ tu aimes _ .”

“Why not?!”

“That’s just the way these rules are!”

“The rules are stupid!”   
  


“Green?”

“ _ Vert. _ ”

“Black?”

“ _ Noir. _ ”

“Brown?”

“ _ Brun _ …?”

“It’s _ marron _ .”

“Isn’t that maroon?”

“No, it’s brown.”

“Stupid French.”   
  


“I hate this stupid language so much,” Clarke grumbles.

Lexa shakes her head. “You don’t.”

“Oh but I do.”

“It’s a beautiful language Clarke,” Lexa points out.

“Yeah, when you actually understand it,” Clarke shoots back, resting her chin in the palms of her hands with her elbows propped up on the table. “This must be so easy for you.”

“It is now,” the forward admits with a shrug. “I wasn’t far off from you when I first encountered the language.”

Clarke lets out a long and frustrated sigh in response. The two sit in silence for a moment as Lexa jots down notes (which Clarke is pretty sure she doesn’t even need) into her notebook. She watches the pen effortlessly flow on the paper so eloquently and smoothly it reminds her of Lexa herself.

“What’s your favorite phrase in French?” she suddenly asks, the thought coming to mind.

Pen leaves paper as Lexa lifts it up to tap against her chin, deep in thought for a moment. Clarke waits patiently, looking on as Lexa twists her lips towards one side of her face as she finds the answer to Clarke’s question.

“ _ J’ai gardé en moi, des mots étranges, aussi beaux que la caresse d’un ange. _ ”

Her voice is soft and quiet, like a soft murmur lulling a child to sleep. Clarke feels entranced by it, knowing whatever the girl’s said, it’s beautiful and meaningful. Because it took Lexa a long moment to respond, to find the right words. It’s her honest answer.

“Translation?” she asks, suddenly lifting her head.

Lexa busies herself with playing with her water bottle that’s standing next to her notebook as she replies, “ _ I kept inside me, strange words as beautiful as the caress of an angel. _ ” She clears her throat, eyes still on her water bottle, refusing to meet Clarke’s. “It’s um...it’s from a poem.”

Clarke’s even more curious than before. “You like poetry?”

The brunette’s face is suddenly flushed and she bites her bottom lip in embarrassment. “Something like that,” she hints, still not meeting Clarke’s gaze. “I’m minoring in English.”

“Oh,” Clarke nods, trying to understand the way Lexa - usually confident and sure of herself  when she speaks - has now grown quiet and careful. “That’s cool,” she offers with a small smile.

Lexa’s bright eyes finally meet Clarke’s and when she sees the genuine interest on the blonde’s face, she smiles a little. “Thanks.”   
  


* * *

 

Soccer isn’t bad.

In fact, it’s been a steady constant in Clarke’s life considering all the years she’s known Octavia. She doesn’t mind watching soccer, especially not when Octavia’s playing because she knows there’s a good chance someone’s going to get knocked to the ground due to Octavia’s “keep the ball away from my defensive third” mentality.

So it really isn’t surprising when Clarke finds herself in the stands of Shaw Field on a cool Friday night. There’s a fair enough turnout and Clarke isn’t noticeable in the crowd. She’s sitting towards the top of the stands with a pretty good view of the field, being able to see all the action happening. She doesn’t even really know who they’re playing, all she knows is there’s a game because that’s all Octavia would talk about the other night when she came over for dinner (Raven this time was out somewhere, Clarke honestly wasn’t sure where).

Octavia was on the field now, the small girl holding her own with the number sixteen printed proudly on her back. She’d been doing well so far as Clarke could tell, even taken the ball away from her opponents a couple of times. But as much as she loved Octavia, there was a certain lingering curiosity that brought Clarke out tonight.

It had everything to do with the forward streaking towards goal wearing the number twelve.

(Not that Clarke would admit it. If anyone’s wondering she’s here to support Octavia Blake, her childhood friend.)

Clarke hasn’t really been able to take her eyes off of Lexa since the game started. Not that she was making it a point to watch her - it was simply inevitable. The striker’s just everywhere on the field. When she runs she takes big, long strides that look so effortless and graceful, just like the way she can run around defenders and outrun them to the ball as she goes towards goal. Octavia wasn’t kidding - Lexa  _ is _ ridiculously good. Clarke isn’t a soccer expert, but she’d like to think after all the years of watching Bellamy and Octavia’s games she has a little say in talent when it’s being so blatantly displayed like this.

On the field, Lexa looks at home. She’s so in control of every move she makes, every touch she has on the ball is filled with purpose. Despite being only a sophomore, it’s evident she holds a lot of authority on the field. When they’re not in the middle of play she’s yelling out commands and suggestions at her teammates around her. It’s almost as if she was born for this, and she wonders if Octavia and Lexa are good friends on the team, because there similarities between then that she hadn’t seen before.

It’s still 0-0 towards the end of the first half. Clarke can tell Lexa wants a goal; the girl’s had at least three shots that haven’t gone in and each time she stomps a little when she realizes her shot hasn’t made it to the back of the net. Clarke finds that (along with the frustrated pout that comes along with it) kind of adorable. She wonders how someone could look so badass, but adorable at the same time. It just didn’t make sense but yet here Lexa is.

She’s rewarded in the 42nd minute. One of the midfielders on Georgetown steals the ball from the opposing team cleanly, passing it up to another teammate on the outside who dribbles towards the center. Lexa’s sprinting on the opposite side and calling for the ball - Clarke can even hear her voice from the stands. The girl plays the ball to her and Lexa cleanly traps it onto the ground before taking off. Clarke is convinced it’s not possible to run that fast while dribbling a ball. Lexa’s going in on goal and a defender comes forward, trying to stop her, but with a quick cut in she’s in a one-on-one with the goalkeeper. She takes a touch before slamming it into the right corner of the net.

The crowd erupts. Clarke stands along with the rest of the crowd, clapping in amazement. She watches as Lexa’s teammates surround her - even Octavia, jumping on top of everyone to let her presence be known - and they’re all laughing and high fiving and hugging Lexa. The look on the forward’s face is pure joy, and Clarke swears there’s a hint of bashfulness there too. Clarke shakes her head, a smile finding its way onto her face. Leave it to Lexa to be humble about a goal like that.

All that’s left in Clarke’s mind as the whistle blows and they continue playing is the image of Lexa scoring that goal. How calm and poised she was, as if she knew it’d go in.

(At the end of the game she leaves, weaving in and out of the crowd. Not even Octavia gets a hello from her.)

The second time Clarke goes, Raven comes with her. Clarke hadn’t asked her if she wanted to come, Raven had demanded she do so after Clarke returned home the other night later than usual.   
  


“Where were you, Clarke Griffin?” Raven had asked, a bowl of popcorn in her lap and Netflix on their TV.

“Out,” Clarke replied nonchalantly as possible as she dropped her keys and phone on the counter before plopping into the open spot next to Raven.

“Out where? Was there a date I didn’t know about?” the Latina quickly asked, eyes widening with excitement. “Did Princess go on a date?!”

The blonde laughed, shaking her head as she took a handful of popcorn from the bowl. “No, I went to the soccer game.”

“Ah damn,” Raven shakes her head,  _ tsk- _ ing in disappointment. “And here I thought you were living an exciting life and trying to keep it from me.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Clarke jokes in between bites.

“Out there to support O?”

“Huh?”

“Octavia,” Raven says slowly. “You know, go support the little freshman?”

“Oh,” Clarke says, nodding quickly as she puts it together. “Yeah, yeah. She looks good out there.”

“Yeah well, take me next time,” Raven demands. “I wanna see her knock some people around.”

“You got it, Reyes.”   
  


So that’s how they found themselves at Shaw Field two days later for a late Sunday afternoon match. Raven was pretty into it, ooh-ing and aah-ing at the plays that were being made, at Octavia’s fierceness, and also most importantly for Raven, the attractiveness of the girls on either team.

“Which one’s that one that’s really good again?” the brunette asks, eyes wandering around the field. “The hot one? I think you said you have a class with her?”

“Oh Lexa?” Clarke asks offhandedly, pretending she’s paying attention to the game and not really listen to her. “I think she’s number twelve or something. Not sure.”

(Clarke knows for a fact Lexa’s jersey is number twelve.)

“There she is!” the brunette says rather proudly after spotting Lexa. “Dude, she’s so hot. You should get on that.”

The blonde laughs shortly, looking at Raven. “You know there’s more to people than their looks, right? She’s not just hot.”

Raven, being the wickedly brilliant person she is, picks up on Clarke’s slight shift in attitude almost immediately. She quirks an eyebrow, a playful smile on her lips. “Oh really? What’s she like, Griffin?”

“I don’t know,” Clarke mumbles, turning her face back to the game. She’s almost glaring at the game in attempt to make it look like this is a subject of no interest and it takes Raven all she has not to laugh. “She’s very intelligent, likes poetry. She also has a sharp sense of humor, you’ve gotta be able to snap back with a comment of your own to keep up with her. She’s hard working; she likes earning what she receives...”

As Clarke keeps listing things about Lexa, Raven’s smile only grows wider. She can tell Clarke’s smitten, but the blonde doesn’t even know it. She’s not sure if she’s ever really seen Clarke talk about someone like this, all filled with adoration and whatnot. From what she knows, most people approach Clarke before she would ever think of even giving them the time of day. Clarke was oblivious like that.

But now that she knew Clarke may have a little crush on the soccer superstar, Raven was very much going to feed into this.

“Sounds dreamy,” Raven teases.

Clarke glares at her. “Fuck off,” she tells her, crossing her arms like a child. “You asked.”

“You didn’t have to go into detail.”

“I’m allowed to be friends with people.”

“Of course,” Raven chuckles, patting Clarke’s knee. She receives another glare so they fall into silence and continue to watch the game.

(Raven pretends she doesn’t notice the way Clarke’s eyes always follow Lexa on the field.)   
  


Lexa scores twice during the game. Raven’s up and cheering rather wildly while Clarke does her best to appear like she’s happy for the team, but also not over excited that it was Lexa that scored. The image of her scoring is still stuck in her mind, still waiting to be put on paper with intricate detail. Clarke’s trying her best not to, because she knows what it means when she draws people. When the thoughts won’t escape her mind until she puts them to paper, when even after she’s able to create a piece out of it there’s a chance she won’t stop thinking about it.

(It being Lexa scoring or just Lexa - Clarke doesn’t know, isn’t sure she wants to know.)

After the final whistle, Clarke’s ready to leave and pretend she was never here; Raven insists they need to stay and wait for Octavia.

“What? Scared Lexa will see you?” Raven asks like a challenge.

_ Maybe. _

“No,” Clarke scoffs instead, as if that was the most ridiculous idea. “We’re friends, she’s even invited me to come to games.”

Raven wiggles her eyebrows. “So the superstar wants you to watch her play.”

“We’re  _ friends _ ,” Clarke repeats. “It’s what friends do.”

Raven doesn’t have time to come up with a smart ass comment because Octavia spots them and immediately rushes over with her backpack and her cleats in her hand. She smiles widely at them, pleased at their appearance.

“What are you guys doing here?” she asks rather excitedly.

“We decided to come by and see you kid,” Clarke tells her, ruffling Octavia’s already loose ponytail. “Raven wanted to see you in action for the first time.”

“Yeah,” Raven agrees. “Especially since Clarke rudely came the other night without me.”

Octavia gives Raven a weird look which turns into a confused expression as she looks at Clarke. “You were here Friday night?”

Clarke’s eyes widen slightly, looking between Octavia and Raven. Raven, realizing that Clarke did not make her appearance known Friday night, finds this whole situation comical and tries her best to hide her laughter. Clarke wants to kill her. 

“Um yeah,” she nods finally, offering a small smile. “Didn’t stay too long though. I wanted to get home kinda early.”

“Okay,” Octavia says slowly, skeptical of her answer. She’s too happy they’re here now to thoroughly analyze it, so she doesn’t push.

“Dude, you totally trucked that one girl!” Raven says, coming to the rescue. “She literally flew!”

Leave it to Raven to be a complete asshole one second and the good friend the next. Clarke was at crossroads on whether to punch or hug her.

(She pretends she doesn’t notice Lexa walking towards someone - maybe her sister? - at the opposite end of the stadium.)

* * *

 

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“I’m completely serious, Clarke.”

“Lexa! You can’t tell me the books are better than the movie when you haven’t even seen the movie!”

“Yes I can!” Lexa retorts, sitting up from her rather comfortable position on the couch. “It’s practically a proven fact that the books are usually always better than the movies.”

Clarke scoffs, dropping her pen in frustration. “No it’s not.”

“Oh really?” the brunette says, crossing her arms. “Name one movie that’s better than the book - and yes, you have to have read the book.”

They’re sitting in the living room of Lexa and Anya’s apartment on a Tuesday evening, Lexa on the couch and Clarke on the floor (she insisted she likes the floor) with homework sprawled around them. The original plan had been to meet up at the library, but Lexa had called Clarke just as she was walking out of her math class telling her she was exhausted and didn’t have the energy to make it back to campus to meet up, but she was more than welcome to come over to her and her sister’s shared apartment to study.

So, of course, Clarke showed up with her backpack and two Starbucks drinks in her hand.

(Because she’s a nice person and has been to Starbucks with Lexa enough times to notice she likes Starbucks’ teas and isn’t big on coffee. That’s all.)

“That’s not fair,” Clarke frowns. “I don’t read that much.”

Lexa makes a  _ tsk _ -ing noise followed by a hum of disapproval. “And this is why this argument is not valid at all.”

Clarke could argue back with her. She most definitely has it in her - they could probably go on for hours, the two of them, about this topic. But she looks up at Lexa on the couch, sees how her hair is down and somewhat a frazzled mess around her face, and she’s wearing those thick rimmed glasses again. She’s wearing an oversized sweater and you can barely make out her running shorts beneath them, black poking out from under. The sight is calming and once again Clarke’s fingers are itching to put this image to paper. She doesn’t understand how someone can be so beautiful without even trying, how every inch of Lexa seems to be graceful at all times.

“Fine,” she huffs out gently. “You win.”

The triumphant smirk on the forward’s face is both endearing and slightly annoying. “Thought so.”

“Whatever.”

“Oh Clarke,  _ Lose with grace; win with a dance; draw with blood _ ,” Lexa recites uncontrollably.

Clarke stares at her for a second head tilted to the side. “Did you just respond to me with poetry?”

She’s immediately a little embarrassed, sinking back down into the couch as she looks away. “Yeah,” she mumbles. “It happens sometimes. Sorry.”

The blonde watches Lexa shuffle with her papers on the couch, thinks back to a few seconds ago when it slipped out of Lexa so naturally and without warning. How the words that came out of her mouth were just as beautiful as she is. How she’s so incredibly wrapped up in poetry that it’s a part of her every day conversations, whether she wants it to be or not.

“Don’t be,” Clarke finally says.

Lexa looks up. Her glasses have slid down her nose and her hair’s in her face, making Clarke want to reach over and brush it away.

“Who’s it by?”

There’s a pause. Lexa’s dumbfounded by Clarke, but she finds her words again when she replies “Unknown.”

“I like it.”

(She misses the way Lexa blushes into her textbook.)

The door opens and all that’s heard are boots hitting the hardwood floor and the rustling of keys.

“Lexy, guess who’s home early?!”

Lexa lets out a groan of embarrassment as she sinks her face into her book. Leave it to Anya to pick the one day she had Clarke over to study to come home early and be absolutely obnoxious about it. She peeks over her book to see Clarke wickedly grinning at her.

“Lexy, huh?” she says in a low, gruff voice.

_ God _ , could she maybe not do that?

“Shut it,” Lexa snaps, then raises her voice. “Hello Anya.”

“Hello sister,” Anya greets, carrying two bags full of groceries towards the kitchen. She passes the living room where Lexa and Clarke have situated themselves and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, I didn’t know you were having company over. Do I know this person?”

“Last minute plans,” Lexa shrugs, putting her book down and getting up to help Anya with the groceries. “No, you don’t know her. This is Clarke, we have french class together and are partners for our semester project.”

“Nice to meet you kid,” Anya greets as Lexa takes a bag from her and places it on the kitchen counter.

“You too,” Clarke nods. “Nice place.”

“Thanks. Wow Lexa, why don’t you bring your nice and pretty friends home more often?” Anya jokes, trying to rile her little sister up and also add in the dash of required sisterly-embarrassment for any encounter with her friends.

Lexa rolls her eyes, sending a glare in Anya’s direction. There’s an undeniable flush in her cheeks that Anya catches almost immediately. The forward turns to Clarke and sighs as she makes her way back to the couch. “I apologize for my rather blunt and absurd older sister.” 

Anya leans back and lifts her leg so the toe of her boot kicks Lexa’s backside. “You love it, don’t even pretend you don’t.”

Lexa stumbles slightly, catching herself before she full on trips. She turns back to Anya and glares. “Ass.”

“Yes Lexa,” her older sister smirks. “That was your ass I just kicked.” She only grins when she hears Clarke’s quiet chuckle. “Hey, I like her. She thinks I’m funny.”

“Please don’t,” the forward whines, turning back to Clarke with a frown. “You’ll only make her ego bigger.”

The oldest of the three only scoffs at Lexa’s response before turning her attention back to the groceries. “Hey Clarke, wanna stay for dinner?”

Just as Lexa’s getting comfortable on the couch again, she shoots up, eyes widening with a panicked expression at Anya. “Anya, I’m sure Clarke has to get back to her roommate soon.”

“What? Afraid I’ll start telling her embarrassing stories of you?” the older one asks with a grin.

“There are embarrassing stories of Lexa?” Clarke asks rather innocently, raising her eyebrows.

“No,” Lexa quickly says.

“Of course there are!” Anya laughs at the same time. “Lexa’s absolutely wild, Clarke. There’s more to this one than just poetry and soccer, you know.”

“Oh, I’d love to hear all about it,” Clarke chuckles, giving Lexa a wink. “But she’s actually right. It’s Taco Tuesday and Raven would definitely kill me if I bailed on her.”

Anya makes a disappointed grunting noise while Lexa lets out a silent sigh of relief, once again relaxing onto the couch. “Well, another time then kid.”

“Totally,” the blonde nods, beginning to return all her belongings into her backpack.

While Clarke’s preoccupied with her things, Anya’s giving Lexa the most smug look. Lexa narrows her eyes at her, shaking her head. It only encourages Anya, making her full out grin as she nods over at Lexa. Her younger sister holds in a scoff, hopping off of the couch.

“I’ll walk to you to your car,” she offers as Clarke stands, slinging her backpack onto her shoulder.

Anya snorts at the suggestion from her place in the kitchen. Lexa does her best to ignore it as she slips on some shoes, but her face is burning.

“It was nice to meet you kid,” Anya tells Clarke. “Don’t be a stranger, all right?”

“We’ll see if Lexa invites me again,” Clarke jokes with an easy smile.

For a second Lexa just looks at Clarke. All blonde hair up in a messy ponytail, tendrils falling out and her blue eyes so kind and genuine towards just about anyone. She can tell Clarke genuinely likes Anya - which, thank God because her sister’s such a handful for Lexa alone, she can’t imagine strangers interacting with her - and she can tell Clarke feels comfortable with her. She wonders how Clarke can be that way, so warm and inviting to people she comes across.

“Are you ready Lexa?” Clarke asks.

Lexa nods, beginning to make her way towards the door. “Be back in a few, Anya.”

“Take your time!”

Wow, Lexa really wants to kill her. Instead she rolls her eyes and leads Clarke out of the apartment and back to the parking garage.

“I’m so sorry about her,” she says immediately as the door closes. “She’s so-”

“Don’t be,” the blonde laughs. “I like her. She’s cool. It must be nice to have an older sister like that.”

Lexa’s eyebrows rise so high she wonders if they reached her hairline. “Really? She’s such a pain in my ass.”

“You love her, though.”

It’s not an assumption, not a guess. The way she says it makes Lexa know that Clarke understands this as a fact. She  _ knows _ Lexa loves Anya despite all her antics. It makes Lexa’s shoulders relax a little, her expression fall ever so slightly.

“Yeah,” she agrees, nodding slowly. “I do. She’s all I have.”

Clarke doesn’t respond with words. She just nods and a silence settles between them. It’s not awkward but it’s not quite the comfortable silence either of them wishes for. Heavy topics sit between them. Clarke thinks of her father, and his loving nature. How she wishes she had another moment with him.

“Thank you for being flexible and coming over,” Lexa says as they reach Clarke’s jeep. “And also for the Starbucks.”

“Oh it’s no problem, I don’t mind.” Clarke shrugs, unlocking her car door and throwing her backpack into the back seat.

“I can pay you back-” Lexa starts, but Clarke cuts her off.

“Don’t, it’s no big deal, really,” she insists. “Just promise me I’ll get to hear stories about how wild you really are.”

The brunette laughs, shaking her head. “I’m keeping those under wraps for as long as I can.”

Clarke shakes her head. “What a shame. I’ll find a way to hear them.” She hops into the driver’s seat, leaving the door open. “Good night Lexa, I’ll see you in class.”

“Good night Clarke, see you tomorrow.”

She watches Clarke drive away. Clarke, the girl who ordered exactly what Lexa wanted from Starbucks without even asking, who argues about her so passionately about books and movies,  who is amused (and not aggravated) with Anya, and who  _ likes _ how Lexa recites poetry when she speaks.

> _ What no one ever talks about _
> 
> _ is how dangerous hope can be. _
> 
> _ Call it forgiveness _
> 
> _ with teeth. _

“Did you kiss her goodbye?” Anya asks as soon as she walks back into the apartment.

Lexa lets out a rather loud groan and she kicks her shoes off and joins Anya in the kitchen. “Why is it impossible for you to be normal around others? And why aren’t you like this when I bring Lincoln home?”

“Because, my dear Lexa,” Anya starts, pouring oil into a measuring cup. “You are so gay, and you are not smitten with Lincoln as you are with Clarke.”

The forward gapes, mouth hanging open. “I am not smitten with Clarke!”

Her sister looks up from the oil and she sets it down and smirks. “Your cheeks are telling me something completely different.”

Lexa immediately scowls, hands flying up to cover her cheeks. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“She’s the one you’re writing about, isn’t she?” Anya says instead, ignoring Lexa’s comment all together. She pours the measuring cup of oil into the pan, watching it sizzle. “The one who has you spitting poetry out every second you’re not with her.”

“This is stupid,” Lexa complains, dropping her hands so she can cross her arms. “Clarke and I are simply friends. That’s all there is to it.”

“There’s more you want out of it,” Anya points out, dropping chopped vegetables into the pan now.

“Anya.”

“Alexandria.”

“You can’t use my full name!” Lexa argues, throwing her hands up.

“Hey careful,” the older one scolds, guiding Lexa’s hands away from the stove and the food she’s cooking. “And yes, I can. I’m the older sister. I’m in charge of you.”

“You’re annoying,” the forward mutters, a frown set on her face. She turns around, beginning to walk back to her mess of homework she left on the couch.

“Lexa.”

“What.” she asks harshly, turning around sharply.

“I like her,” Anya says honestly. “I think she’s good for you.”

Lexa doesn’t respond, simply turns her on her heels and picks up her books before quickly escaping to her bedroom.   
  


Clarke gives in.

She gives in to her desires, the way her fingers crave to draw the features that might as well be made from Clarke’s dreams.

She gets home early, Raven has a three hour class so Clarke has time to herself. The blonde drops her backpack almost frantically once she reaches her bedroom. Quickly, she’s making her way to the small desk at the foot of her bed, hands reaching and grabbing before she can understand it. She’s grabbing her sketchbook that she leaves at home, the one for more intricate pieces - the ones that take more time, that truly matter to her. Her right hand reaches for the tin box of pencils she knows she wants to use for the piece. Somehow she finds herself seated, flipping to the newest page in her sketchbook.

Letting out a heavy sigh, she begins.

Clarke’s careful, oh so careful. When her pencils touches paper the strokes are so light, so tedious. She wants to get this right - it deserves to be. Anything less than perfect would drive Clarke insane for the rest of her life. Something so so beautiful and breathtaking deserved to be portrayed justly.

She’s at it for hours, losing track of time. All that matters is what’s in front of her and how is coming along. She knows if she stops she’ll get frustrated and it won’t be the same, it won’t be how she wants it. Her phone beeps a few times - texts from her friends probably - but she doesn’t care. Clarke hardly even hears the beeps as she scowls at the piece in front of her, trading off pencils every now and then.

The blonde doesn’t think about anything but what she’s working on. She lets her hands take control, shaping and shading and outlining. She doesn’t think about the subject of the art. Doesn’t think about those pretty eyes and the smart ass smile. Doesn’t think about the poetry that flows from her lips.

Clarke most definitely doesn’t think about what doing this means.

She doesn’t think of it because it’s terrifying, admitting she feels something so strongly for someone like Lexa who Clarke can’t read. She’s good at reading people, it’s one of her best skills if she does say so. But Lexa? She’s all mystery and maybe that’s why she’s dying to know more.

“Clarke, are you home?” Raven calls out as she enters the apartment a little while later.

Clarke’s staring at her piece at this point, eyes scanning for any minute mistake she might’ve missed. She hardly even hears Raven, doesn’t have it in her to reply. She just continues to inspect her work, hand hovering over pencils for when she finds something.

“Clarke?” Raven’s voice carries from the living room.

When she gets no response, her boots are heavy against the hardwood floor, louder as they approach Clarke’s room. Clarke is still absorbed in her work to react.

“There you are,” the brunette says with a hint of relief. “I thought you were going to be some mass murderer.”

Clarke blinks, realizing that Raven is at her door and she turns quickly. “Yeah um, no,” she stutters, trying to block her work. “I was just - I got home early and…”

“You were working on your art,” Raven says softly now, pushing herself off the door of Clarke’s room and walking in slowly. “That’s great, Clarke. You know, I was wondering why you weren’t answering my tex-”

Clarke tries to stand and cover her work, but it’s too late. Raven sees it and her words fall mid-sentence, taking it all in. The blonde tenses, realizing she can’t hide now. Her friend’s eyes roam across the paper, taking in every intricate detail, focusing on the face. Her eyes, so soft and gentle when it comes to Clarke’s work, shift from the paper to Clarke.

“It’s so beautiful,” she tells Clarke in a hushed tone. “How long did it take you?”

“I came home after lunch,” Clarke answers, feeling the heaviness of the room.

Raven only nods, looking at the piece a moment longer before saying “I’ll heat up leftovers.”

With that, she turns and leaves the room, letting Clarke have her space. She doesn’t say anything more; she doesn’t have to. Clarke knows that Raven knows for sure now, understands what this means for Clarke. Clarke knows Raven understands by the way her voice was quiet and gentle rather than loud and teasing, the way she really took the time to look at what Clarke had been working on, the way she didn’t push for answers that were staring at both of them.

Raven  _ knows _ and Clarke’s oddly content with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poems used:  
> "Sous nos lèvres avides"   
> "Win Lose Draw"  
> "That Spring Everything Grew Wild and the Rain Came Down Like Punishment " by Clementine von Radics


	3. fire leaving the body

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke likes poetry, Lexa likes art and Raven loves tequila. (Pining and parties go hand in hand, right?)

“I can’t look at anymore French or else I’ll explode,” Clarke dramatically groans, collapsing onto the ground with a soft thud.

Lexa does nothing more than glance down at Clarke before returning her attention to the text in front of her. “Okay Clarke.”

When she doesn’t get Lexa’s attention, she frowns and sits up. “I’m serious,” she says, looking at the girl who’s undisturbed. “I’m pretty sure I fried my brain. That makes my brain french fried..ha!”

The forward stares harder at the text, fighting a smile on her face at Clarke’s words. It’s a losing battle though so she tries to stare even harder at the words she’s most definitely not reading. “Hilarious,” she tell her with a roll of her eyes, still looking at the book.

Something inside Clarke swells when she sees the smile on Lexa’s face. “I know,” she agrees. When the brunette doesn’t say anything more, Clarke grunts before standing. “Okay, that’s it! I’m calling a study break!”

FInally, Lexa looks up from her book towards Clarke with a sigh. “We’ve only been studying for an hour and a half.”

“An hour and a half too long,” Clarke declares.

“Okay, but what would we even do on our ‘study break’?” Lexa asks, quirking her eyebrow up at Clarke.

Clarke shrugs. “Does it matter? Come on,” she says, grabbing Lexa’s wrist and tugging her up from her chair. Her book (as well as the notes with it) tumble to the couch without warning. “We’re going out. I’m driving.”

Lexa tries not to make it obvious how she’s slightly tensed under Clarke’s grip and how her skin warms at the contact. She tries to reason that she’s still tired from practice earlier this Saturday morning, that’s all. Her body’s still cooling down.

“Can I at least change? I’ve been in my practice gear since this morning,” Lexa reminds her, gently tugging out of Clarke’s grasp.

(She ignores the way her skin grows cold where Clarke just held her.)

“Good call because you smell,” the blonde tells her, wrinkling her nose.

Lexa makes a face at her in response, but begins to tug her shirt off as she walks off towards her bedroom to change. Clarke watches her go, not meaning to, but Lexa’s literally stripping in front of her so what’s she supposed to do? Lexa’s managed to get it halfway over her head when Clarke notices something, right underneath the edge of her sports bra. Her eyes immediately squint, trying to make it out. All she can understand is that she’s got black ink on her ribcage. They’re words, she realizes, words too small and and far away for Clarke to read.

Lexa disappears into her bedroom and shuts the door, leaving Clarke to wonder what Lexa’s tattoo says. 

(And also how it’s hot that Lexa has a tattoo.)

 

Two hours later and a stomach filled with Chipotle, Lexa’s pretty content with her life. She’s sitting in the passenger’s seat of Clarke’s jeep with a box of a dozen cupcakes from Baked and Wired (which, by the way - they both swear - is so much better than Georgetown Cupcakes). The windows are rolled halfway down and Clarke has music playing for her speakers. They’re laughing and Clarke keeps singing along (off-key and obnoxiously, just to frustrate Lexa), and Lexa swears she can’t remember the last time she’s felt this good just being with someone.

(She can. She just doesn’t want to think about it.)

“You’re terrible,” Lexa groans, but there’s a giggle that escapes her lips.

“You’re mean,” Clarke pouts, glancing at Lexa for a moment before returning her attention to the road.

“Only because you’re so terrible,” Lexa quips with a smirk.

The blonde glances at her again, seeing the smirk. She rolls her eyes in annoyance, but there’s a smile on her lips.

Lexa’s heart swells at the sight of the smile, and she smiles too, unable to help herself.

(She knows what this is; she just doesn’t want to admit it yet.)

> _ If you are afraid to write it, _ _   
>  _ _ that's a good sign. _ _   
>  _ _ I suppose you know when you're _ _   
>  _ _ writing the _ _   
>  _ __ truth when you're terrified.

Clarke begins to collect her things when they get return to the apartment. As much as she wants to stay - to be with Lexa - she has plans for the rest of her day that involve her leaving Lexa and Anya’s apartment.

“I’ll separate your cupcakes for you,” Lexa offers, purposefully walking into the kitchen.

The blonde picks her backpack up. She looks down to pick up her notes, but realizes it’s now just a mess of her and Lexa’s papers scattered on the ground. She grunts, setting the backpack down on the coffee table and begins sifting through them, setting side the ones she’s positive are hers. She’s gone through almost all of them when one catches her eye. She picks it up, realizing it’s Lexa’s handwriting and not hers.   
  


> _ —I know I have a heart like a wild thing _
> 
> _ with snapping jaws and matted fur _
> 
> _ but I’d hang up my hands on hooks for you, _
> 
> _ pluck out all of my sharp teeth _
> 
> _ for the chance to be _
> 
> _ easy. _

Lexa walks back into the living room, the cupcake box still in hand. “I removed my cupcakes from the box, so yours are the ones that are left in-”

“Did you write this?” Clarke asks, looking at Lexa and holding up the paper with the poem in her hand.

The forward’s expression changes to confused, not sure what Clarke means. “Did I write what?” She looks at the paper, immediately recognizing her handwriting. She notices how it’s not written like notes. Her eyes widen in panic as she puts the box down onto the coffee table. “Oh.”

“Lexa-”

“It’s nothing,” Lexa says quickly as she ducks her head, grabbing the paper from Clarke and tucking it away in her book rather frantically. “It’s just-”

“Did you write it?” Clarke presses, turning to face Lexa.

Lexa looks up from to meet Clarke’s blue eyes searching for an answer. She knows her cheeks flush deeply when she replies “Yes.”

Clarke stares at her for a moment and Lexa can feel her face burning, but she doesn’t dare look away. Not when Clarke’s looking at her like  _ that _ . She wants nothing more than to run off to her room and slam the door shut, to jump under the covers and pretend this never happened.

“You write poetry,” Clarke says in a simple tone.

Lexa nods, trying to read the girl’s expression. Her heart’s beating at a ridiculous rate. She feels so exposed and vulnerable right now. Clarke just read her poetry - something her teammates haven’t seen, something her closest friend Lincoln hasn’t seen. It’s highly possible she could pass out in the next few moments if Clarke doesn’t say something else.

“Lexa,” she says quietly. “You’re really good. You’re- That was- It’s beautiful.”

The brunette blinks, unable to find her words. Clarke read her poetry and thought it was good and didn’t think it was silly or childish or ridiculous. Clarke likes her poetry. Lexa never shares her poetry with anyone, not even Anya most of the time, but here Clarke was.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

Clarke somehow understands the gravity of this moment - understands this isn’t something Lexa goes around sharing with others. So instead, she picks up her notes and stuff them into her backpack, not really caring if they get crumpled in there. She zips it up and slings it onto one of her shoulders. Lexa remains quiet the whole time, watching her.

“So what exactly can’t you do, Alexandria Woods?” she asks, her voice light and teasing. “Because it seems to me you’ve got it all.”

It’s enough to get Lexa to relax, and she quirks an eyebrow in response. “I don’t, Clarke. Maybe we’ll find out one day.”

Clarke smiles, shaking her head. “Maybe.”

* * *

 

Clarke bursts through the door, dropping her backpack as soon as she steps into the apartment. “Hi sorry, I know I’m late,” she apologizes, rushing to the kitchen.

Raven and Octavia are in the middle of serving food onto their respective plates when she enters. The mechanic laughs with the biggest smirk on her face while Octavia looks at the frazzled blonde, half-concerned and half-amused at the sight.

“Yo Clarke, it’s just dinner,” the defender tells her, slowly scooping more food onto her plate. “It’s fine.”

“You didn’t text me!” Clarke accused the still smirking Raven before grabbing her own plate.

Raven shrugs. “Oops, I forgot.” She’s still wearing an annoying smirk, enjoying Clarke’s rather frazzled state.

“Where were you anyway?” Octavia asks.

“Yeah Clarke,” Raven’s smirk grows deeper, placing a hand on her hip. “Where were you?”

At Raven’s attitude towards the question, Octavia cocks an eyebrow up. They’re both looking at Clarke expectantly, and the artist does her best to stop her cheeks from flushing from their stares.

She quickly begins to stack food onto her plate, avoiding both their gazes. “Oh you know, I was just studying with Lexa.”

“Mhmm,” Raven hums, grabbing a fork for herself. “So were you studying your French or studying  _ her _ ?”

Octavia almost drops her plate. “Raven! What the fuck?!”

Raven laughs, both at Octavia and at Clarke whose eyes are wide as saucers and her jaw dropped to the floor. “What? It’s not like I’m completely wrong.”

“ _ Jesus _ Raven,” Clarke groans, grabbing her own fork. “We’re just friends, okay? That’s all we are.” She stomps off to the living room, leaving the other two in the kitchen.

Octavia looks from the annoyed Clarke to the chucking Raven. “Am I missing something here?”

“Oh little Octavia,” Raven sighs, patting the small girl on her shoulder. “It seems like the great Clarke Griffin has the hots for your teammate.”   
  


Clarke wonders if her professor will notice if she falls asleep. She’s not in the front row, cleverly sitting in the middle where she kind of blends in with everyone else. Last night’s chemistry homework was really taking a toll on her, and plus she has a pretty good grade in this class (thanks to Lexa). She props her chin onto her hand, relaxing into it as her professor continues her lecture. She’s practically dozing off when her professor claps his hands together.

“Okay, turn to page seventy-five and work on activity two with a partner.”

The blonde jolts up in her seat, the loud clap surprising her. It sends practically everything sitting on her desk onto the floor. She blinks slowly, watching everyone shift around as they find a partner to work with. She only notices the scatter of her belongings on the floor a few moments later when there’s a soft laugh by her side.

“A little tired, are we?” Lexa’s voice carries over the sound of everyone else beginning their activities.

“Something like that,” Clarke grumbles, rubbing at her eyes. “Chemistry’s a bitch.”

The soccer player only laughs again, shaking her head. Clarke gives her a sleepy smile to which Lexa returns. “Come on, let’s pick up your things and get started on this activity.”

“I don’t even know what we’re doing right now,” Clarke mumbles.

She reluctantly leans down and helps Lexa pick up everything she dropped. She’s still half out of it, but something catches her eye. She picks up her sketchbook and loose papers slip out. At first, Clarke doesn’t think much of it, doesn’t realize what’s happening. But there’s one particular paper with a completed drawing on it sticking out. Once she realizes it, Clarke tries to reach for it, but Lexa beats her to it, picking it out of the pile.

“Clarke I didn’t know you’re an artist,” Lexa says, looking at her in excitement. “I just thought you were an excessive doodler based on what your notes look like.”

And usually, Clarke would come back with some smart ass comment for this situation. It would come out of her mouth so naturally and easily she wouldn’t have even blinked. Except the sketch Lexa’s holding is something Clarke prayed she’d never see, something she shouldn’t have even tucked into her sketchbook that she brings to school.

When she doesn’t reply, only stares at Lexa and the paper, the brunette narrows her eyebrows in confusion. She looks down at the paper, finally inspecting its contents and her features soften almost immediately. She lets out a quiet gasp, eyes slowly roaming over the intricate details Clarke’s left. It’s a sketch of her, dawned in her soccer uniform, down to the exact cleats she wears. The ball is just leaving her feet and the goalkeeper is stretched out the wrong way. Lexa knows this goal, she remembers seeing the goalkeeper diving in the opposite direction she sent the ball. She looks up to meet Clarke’s nervous eyes.

“You come to my games,” Lexa breathes out quietly. Her eyes are so gentle and so reverent, she’s so touched by this she can’t even think of all the words she wants to say to Clarke.

Clarke’s looking at Lexa so carefully, so afraid of her reaction. When Lexa’s eyes settle on her she feels everything inside her body ignite. She can see how humbled Lexa is, how she appreciates the work Clarke’s done. When Lexa speaks, she’s so surprised she says the only thing she can think of.

“Yeah,” she responds, swallowing the lump that’s seemingly grown in her throat in anticipation.

“This is so amazing,” Lexa almost gushes in a still hushed tone, eyes raking over the paper once again.

Clarke speaks again before thinking. “You can keep it,” she says, and Lexa looks back up at her. “You know, if you want to,” she adds, almost stumbling over her words.

“I love it,” Lexa tells her, placing it gently on her desk. “Thank you.”

Clarke nods, French assignment long forgotten. Instead she watches Lexa in silent adoration.

* * *

It’s another Friday night that Clarke finds herself in the stands with Raven once again. This time she’d even wished Lexa good luck, and when Lexa asked if she’d be there Clarke just smirked at her and said “I guess you’ll find out later.”

“Hey you’re drooling,” Raven tells Clarke when Lexa scores. “And I can actually see hearts in your eyes.”

It earns the girl a smack on the arm. “Shut the fuck up, Raven.”

At the end of the game, Octavia spots them almost immediately and makes her way over. Her eyes are just as bright as the first time she saw them in the stands, and something about that makes Clarke’s heart swell. If anything, Octavia was like her little sister and to see her so happy and to support her out here means a lot to both of them. Even when they feel like they have no one from home, they have each other.

“Hey kid,” Raven greets the defender, ruffling up her hair. “You’re still a badass.”

Octavia attempts to duck her head, but fails and settles for smacking Raven’s hand away instead. “Thanks,” she grins, looking at both of them. “If we keep this up, we’ll get to the conference championship.”

“Well I believe in you,” Clarke tells her with a pat on the shoulder. “You guys look great out there.”

“Are we still talking about the soccer?” Raven asks with a light hip check.

Clarke glares at her. “You’re not funny, you know.”

“She’s hilarious,” Octavia argues, an amused expression on her face when Clarke realizes the freshman has caught on.

“You’re both the worst.”

“You love it!” the mechanic exclaims. She then turns to Octavia, letting the younger girl ramble on about her favorite plays of the game, about her tackles and the fouls and the almost goals that her team refused to let in.

“You came.”

Clarke turns her head away from her friends to see Lexa in all her glory, covered in sweat and grass stains with her socks rolled down to her ankles and her ponytail a mess, making her way over to her. She wonders how the forward can still look so graceful after ninety minutes of running around.

“Indeed I did.”

“So Clarke,” Lexa says, stopping once she’s in front of the girl. “Do you think I’m as good as they say?”

The blonde looks at Lexa for a moment. “Even better.”

The forward tries to hide a shy smile by biting her bottom lip and looks down, wisps of hair falling out of her ponytail. Clarke’s convinced it’s one of the most precious sights she’s ever seen.

“Clarke-y!” Raven says, nudging Clarke’s shoulder rather roughly. “Who’s your friend here?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Clarke can see Raven doing her best to hide her face-eating smirk, but her eyes give it all away. Octavia, on the other hand, watches the interaction with a hand on her hip and a glint in her eyes.

“Raven,” Clarke almost grumbles with an eye roll. “This is Lexa. Lexa, this is Raven, my roommate.”

“Nice to meet you Lexa,” Raven gives her an easy smile, holding out her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Clarke’s eyes widen and Octavia stifles a laugh into her sleeve.

Lexa takes Raven’s hand and looks at Clarke with a curiously smile. “Is that so?”

“Not really,” Clarke manages.

“All the time,” Raven replies at the same time.

“I’m going to side with Raven on this one,” Octavia pipes up.

“O!” Clarke exclaims, looking at Octavia in disbelief.

Lexa lets out a laugh, ever so graceful despite Clarke’s obvious embarrassment. “Well what are you two doing tonight? My friend on the men’s team is having a party tonight. You’re both more than welcome to come.”

“I’ll be there,” Octavia tells them. “The whole team’s going.”

Clarke looks to Raven, raising an eyebrow. Raven, eyes glinting with mischief and excitement nods eagerly.

“We’ll be there.”   
  


The party seems to be in full swing by the time Clarke and Raven arrive. The blonde, dressed in black ripped jeans and a denim blouse with the sleeves rolled up just before her elbows, searches the house for Lexa or Octavia or anyone remotely familiar. Raven, on the other hand, tries to scope out the alcohol.

“There it is!” Raven points, grabbing Clarke by the wrist and dragging her over to the kitchen. “Oh my god Clarke, they have the good shit.” She drops Clarke’s wrist and holds up a bottle of tequila.

“If you think I’m downing that without any chasers...” Clarke warns, but her warning falls on deaf ears - whether it be the music or Raven being Raven - because her friend grabs two shot glasses and starts pouring.

The blonde’s eyes wander around, recognizing a few people from the team. She wonders where on earth Lexa could be until her eyes catch the brunette and her breath falls short. There Lexa is, talking to a tall guy. She’s wearing black denim shorts that expose her long legs, a black cropped t-shirt that clings to her skin cutting off right at the beginning of her rib cage and an unbuttoned red plaid flannel that leaves her defined abs exposed.

Clarke wants to pass out on the spot because wow Lexa looks really good.

“Clarke!” Lexa yells over the music once she spots her. Her already flushed face lights up at the sight of the blonde and she motions for the guy she was in mid-conversation with to follow her over to Clarke and Raven.

“Hi Lexa,” Clarke greets her when she approaches.

“Hello Clarke,” Lexa replies, obviously already on her way to getting wasted. Her hair is loose and wavy down her shoulders and her cheeks are very flushed.

Without warning, she pulls Clarke into a hug and suddenly the blonde feels extremely warm and like she can’t breathe. Being this close to Lexa is throwing her off so much she’s convinced she doesn’t need any alcohol at this point. She ignores Raven’s laugh behind her and hugs the brunette back before letting go.

“Clarke,” Lexa says again, smiling wide. “This is Lincoln,” she points to the tall and built guy standing next to her. “He’s captain of the men’s soccer team and the one throwing this party.”

“Well, you certainly are doing a great job,” Raven tells him, holding up the tequila bottle.

Lincoln lets out a low chuckle. “Girl likes tequila I see.”

“This is my roommate Raven,” Clarke tells him.

After all the greetings are done Raven shoves a shot glass full of straight tequila in Clarke’s hand.

“Come on Clarke!” she eagerly nods, holding up her shot glass.

“Raven, I told you-”

“Don’t be a pussy, Griffin! I know you’re better than that!”

“Scared of a little tequila, Clarke?” Lexa asks her, a smirk playing her lips.

Clarke’s eyes light up at the challenge. “I’ll only do it if you match me.”

The forward’s eyebrows raise as her smirk only deepens. “I’ve already warmed up, Clarke. It may not be fair to you.”

Clarke hates the way her gut burns with the way Lexa says her name, and how she’s said it so often since spotting her.

“Scared of a little tequila, Alexandria?” Clarke mimics her.

“Lexa she used your full name,” Lincoln eggs her on. “You have to.”

Lexa stares at Clarke for a few seconds, green eyes burning. She’s extremely competitive, it’s in her blood. It’s why she’s so good at what she does. When Clarke makes it clear she’s not backing down, Lexa shifts her gaze to Raven.

“Pour me one.”   
  


Clarke’s pretty drunk. After doing five straight shots of tequila she decides she’d a cup or two of jungle juice isn’t the worst idea in the world. Raven runs off to team up with Octavia for a few rounds of beer pong, leaving Clarke with Lexa. Lexa, who downs the rest of her cup and immediately drags Clarke to the living room where everyone was dancing. There are so many people, bodies are pressed together and everyone’s moving in different directions, but the only one that matters is the girl tugging Clarke along. Once she finds a good spot she presses her back against Clarke’s front and begins swaying rhythmically to the music. Clarke, drunk enough to go with it without question, places her hands on the girl’s hips letting the music take control. 

The music’s so loud and Lexa’s so close Clarke can smell her shampoo. She hardly knows anyone here but it doesn’t matter because she’s dancing with the gorgeous brunette who has a comeback on the tip of her tongue at any given moment and writes the most beautiful poetry Clarke’s ever come across. Lexa turns her face towards Clarke and she has the most smoldering expression Clarke’s just about ready to pass out. She tightens her grip on Lexa’s waist, keeping her even closer than before.

Lexa shifts so her whole body’s facing Clarke and she drapes her arms around the blonde’s shoulders. “Enjoying yourself?” she asks with a smug look.

“More than you know,” Clarke tells her.

“Oh I think I have an idea,” the brunette admits, biting her bottom lip as she smiles at Clarke.

And the look she’s giving Clarke is driving the blonde absolutely wild. By the glint in her eye, Clarke’s pretty sure Lexa knows what she’s doing - despite being even more drunk than the blonde. For a while, nothing else seems to bother them. It’s just Lexa, Clarke and the music pounding in their ears.

(And the unsteady beat of their hearts, but they both ignore it.)

After a few songs Lexa gets dragged away by a few of her teammates, and she looks at Clarke apologetically, but Clarke only smiles and nods as if saying “it’s fine, don’t worry.” The artist makes her way around the sea of people to find Octavia and Raven both excitedly yelling over each other at the beer pong table. Once she appears they both begin to direct their yelling at her, and Clarke only laughs and lets them talk over each other.

An hour of watching Raven and Octavia babbling and screaming and clearly dominating at beer pong (to which Lincoln shows appreciation and Octavia basks in his attention), Clarke wanders around the house. She wonders where Lexa is, making her way upstairs to check out the rest of the house. It’s less crowded up here, there’s a game area with a pool table and a couple couches, and there are people lounging about. Clarke’s about to make her way over to check it out because she thinks she recognizes Monty from her physics class when the door to her right opens and she turns to see who’s coming out of it.

“Lexa,” she says, stopping in her tracks.

“Clarke,” Lexa smiles, rather pleased at her findings.

Her flannel is now tied loosely at her waist, giving everyone a full view of her stomach and well defined abs that come as a soccer player. Her hair is thrown up into a messy high ponytail that still seems to look good even though Clarke knows she probably just tossed it up with minimal effort.

“Break the seal?” Clarke asks, noticing the open door of the bathroom behind her.

The brunette rolls her eyes. “It had to happen eventually, Clarke.”

“You know,” Clarke says, turning to face her as she crosses her arms. “You seem to like saying my name a lot when you’re drunk.”

Lexa lifts her chin, crossing her arms as Clarke steps closer. “You know Clarke,  _ there’s a hole in so big in my heart...I can fill it with a mountain. I can fill it with a name. _ ”

And it’s something she never does - recite her own poetry. She’s too self conscious about it. It’s way too personal too private. But she’s drunk and Clarke looks so pretty and she asked a question that she couldn’t help but answer with the words she’s written about her. Her drunk mind also rationalizes that it’s Clarke, the one who thinks it’s cool she writes poetry and doesn’t mind when she quotes lines of it in conversation.

The blonde tilts her head, recognizing it as poetry almost immediately. “Who’s that one by?”

“Yours truly,” she admits, not caring enough that she’s putting herself out there like this.

She knows Clarke feels it, she has to. The way nothing mattered but each other, the way they can’t stop looking each other than more than a few minutes at a time. She’s almost positive Clarke could hear her heart beating erratically when they were pressed against each other. And she’s waiting for Clarke to make the first move because Lexa’s afraid of letting herself open it, of initiating anything because after Costia she wasn’t sure she could do that anymore.

Not until she met Clarke.

“Why’d you take this off?” Clarke asks, tugging at the tied sleeve of Lexa’s flannel.

At the tug, Lexa’s pulled towards Clarke, only inches left between them. “It got hot,” she tells her simply.

“Sorry, am I too much?” Clarke teases with a smirk.

Lexa laughs. “Well, Clarke, I may be the English minor but you’re pretty good with words.”

“Words aren’t the only thing my mouth is good with.”

Lexa almost stops breathing for a moment when those words leave Clarke’s mouth. Clarke’s blue eyes are gazing at her so hotly, lingering at Lexa’s lips so long the brunette knows it’s not accidental. She suddenly feels hot all over despite no longer wearing her flannel because it’s been so long since someone has looked at her like that and since Lexa’s felt so strongly about someone.

“Oh really?” she whispers, trying to keep her voice steady as she eyes Clarke up and down.

“Yeah,” Clarke nods, voice low and husky.

“Prove it.”

At this, Clarke’s eyes snap back up to Lexa’s and she sees the dare hanging between them. It’s silent for a hot moment before she leans in. Her lips press against Lexa’s softly at first, but as soon as Lexa’s reciprocating their kisses are harder. Lexa’s hands rest against Clarke’s hips and Clarke’s hands are on Lexa’s cheeks. 

The blonde guides Lexa into the bathroom she’d just come from, slamming the door closed with her shoe. Lexa pins her against the door, deepening her kisses as her hands roam up and down Clarke’s sides. Clarke’s hands slide from Lexa’s cheeks to her waist and she pushes herself off the door and directs Lexa until her butt hits the counter of the sink. Lexa’s clinging onto Clarke’s neck now, one leg wrapping around her waist. Clarke manages to lift her up so she’s sitting on the sink, hands sliding up and down Lexa’s thighs. 

“Clarke,” Lexa breathes when she pulls away for a moment.

It’s driving Clarke wild, how heavenly her name sounds on Lexa’s lips. She kisses her again so fervently and fully she can feel the almost moan that escapes Lexa’s lips. Her hands run up and down Lexa’s sides now, smiling at how she can feel goosebumps where her fingers touch. Her fingers slide under the fabric of Lexa’s crop top, where they meet the end of Lexa’s bra. Lexa pulls back slightly to look at Clarke, admiring the view. They’re both trying to catch their breath, and Lexa’s looking at her like she puts the stars in the sky every night and it’s so meaningful that Clarke wants to just show Lexa how she feels that way about her.

“Lexa,” she whispers, gazing at her gently.

After a moment, Clarke’s fingers move again, this time lifting the bottom of Lexa’s shirt. She’s just about to remove it when she looks down and black ink below the bra line catches her eye.

> _ poetry. _
> 
> _ is the fire leaving my body. _

Clarke stares at the words, letting her fingers run across them. She’s silent, everything sobering up. The words echo in her mind as she reads the repeatedly in front of her.

“It’s by Nayyirah Waheed,” Lexa tells her quietly, noticing her gaze.

“It’s perfect,” Clarke murmurs.

As she lets her fingers run across the words permanently etched onto Lexa’s skin, a realization dawns on her. Clarke wants to know every inch of Lexa, wants to map her out and leave her mark on the girl carefully. She wants Lexa to know how much she means to Clarke and how Clarke will take care of her, always. But she can’t do that now. Not when they’re drunk and acting on lust. She needs Lexa to know, to understand it so clearly in her mind. She wants this to be something real, something that’ll mean something not only to her but to Lexa too when she wakes up.

Gently, she puts Lexa’s shirt back into place, tugging it so it straightens out. She glances up to see Lexa tilting her head with a confused expression.

“We can’t,” Clarke tells her gently, her hands falling to either side of Lexa’s legs. “Not like this.”

“Clarke, I-” Lexa tries, but Clarke cuts her off.

“I don’t want this to happen when we’re drunk and stupid,” the blonde explains to her, brushing a few strands of hair out of Lexa’s face. “I want it to happen because we’re sober and everything’s right.”

Lexa looks at Clarke with her big green eyes so adoringly as the words spill out of her mouth. “Okay,” she nods. “We’re good, right? This doesn’t-we’re still...we’re good?”

Clarke can’t help but laugh softly at the rambling girl in front of her. “Yes Lexa, we’re good. How about we get you home?”

The brunette nods and Clarke steps back to let Lexa slide off of the counter. They exit the bathroom, Lexa leading with Clarke trailing behind. The taller girl pulls out of phone and opens its case, then lets out a frustrated groan.

“What’s wrong?” Clarke asks, her hand immediately on Lexa’s back.

“I forgot my key to get into my apartment,” she frowns. “I can’t get in and there’s no telling if Anya’s coming home tonight.”

“You can stay at my place,” Clarke immediately offers.

“Are you sure?” Lexa asks. “I don’t want to intrude on you and Raven.”

“It’s fine,” the blonde reassures her, guiding her down the stairs and into the heart of the party. “We’ll go now, Raven and O will be fine here. They’ll find their ways back.”

They both leave the house, Clarke ordering an uber as they walk towards the sidewalk. Lexa leans in a little, with Clarke’s hand still on her back.

(Neither of them say anything about it. Neither of them think they should.)

* * *

> _ You know that feeling when you drink too much _
> 
> _ of a certain liquor and then even the sight of it _
> 
> _ makes you feel unsteady? _
> 
>  
> 
> _ That’s how I feel when I write poems about you. _

The week that follows is filled with so much tension they’re both most likely about to explode. There’s so much in between them that’s just waiting. Clarke’s waiting for the right time, Lexa’s waiting for Clarke to make her move.   
  


“Griffin, did you not get laid last night?” Raven asks the next morning after the party when she’s awake and Lexa’s long gone. “You were on the couch.”

“Not everything’s about sex you know,” Clarke bites back, rolling her eyes and returning her attention to the TV.

Raven eyes her carefully. She keeps eyeing her as she walks to the kitchen and pours herself some orange juice. Her constant stare is unsettling enough for Clarke to finally turn her head towards her.

“What?” she asks, slightly annoyed.

“You’re in so deep,” is all her roommate says before taking a sip of her orange juice.

Clarke only scoffs, returning her attention back to the TV.

(She never denies Raven. Especially not when later that day all she can sketch is the words so delicately printed onto Lexa’s skin.)  
  


They’re studying at Lexa’s apartment - a common occurrence for the two of them now - and Clarke’s convinced she’s going to burst. She’s sitting on one edge of the couch with papers scattered across the rest of it as she tries to understand the math in the textbook on her lap. Lexa’s decided to find a spot on the floor, and is now sprawled on her back with her hair going all sorts of directions. She holding up a notebook of notes in front of her face, reading carefully with the greatest interest. The way her brows are furrowed so tightly and she slightly squints to read the notes has Clarke staring at her for longer than an appropriate amount of time.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer,” Lexa quips without even looking away from her notes.

Clarke’s cheeks blush a soft pink, as she turns her eyes back to her textbook. “Yeah like you weren’t looking at me in class.”

“ _ I praise the human, gutted and rising _ ,” Lexa only smiles, knowing Clarke was very much right. She’s been a lot more comfortable letting the lines of poetry slip from her lips. She feels as if she’s uncovered something from Clarke just as vulnerable as her poetry, and the image Clarke has sketched of her is still in her folder.

After a moment, she looks away from her notes to see Clarke looking at her again. They just stare at each other for a moment, half-smiles present and nothing else processing. Lexa wonders about the situation they’ve found themselves in. She likes Clarke - likes her a lot - and as dangerous as she knows she is, it’s settled by the fact Clarke feels the same way. At least, she’s pretty sure Clarke feels the same - especially with the way she initiated  _ it _ the other night. She’s somewhat relieved Clarke stopped it; Lexa isn’t sure she’s ready to give herself to someone else. Not like that, not so deeply and wholly. Not after the last time.

“When’s your next game?” Clarke asks, bringing Lexa’s attention back to her.

Lexa thinks about it for a moment. “Friday,” she says, then sits up. “We’re playing another game Sunday, and they’re both away so I won’t be here.”

The blonde lets out a groan, flailing rather dramatically from her position on the couch. “How will I ever do my French homework without you?” Lexa only laughs before Clarke asks, “Who’s ass are you kicking this weekend then?”   
  


It’s then that Lexa’s laugh falters, that her eyes are no longer as bright. Clarke catches on to it almost immediately. “Villanova’s on Friday,” she tells her as she sits up and puts her notebook aside. She tugs over a textbook and glances at it instead of Clarke.

Clarke furrows her brows, trying to understand the girl’s sudden mood shift. “Are they a tough opponent?”

The forward sighs softly, still looking at her textbook. “Something of the sort.” She flips a page before placing the book onto her lap and continuing to read.

Clarke watches her for another moment before leaning back into the couch and turning her attention back to the mess in front of her. She knows there’s something more to Villanova than just the soccer - it’s obvious by the way Lexa’s demeanor completely changes. She wants to ask, wants to understand and reassure Lexa that whatever it is doesn’t matter because she’s the best out there, but she doesn’t. 

Instead, she lets Lexa be Lexa and waits until she’s comfortable enough to share with Clarke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Bone" by Yrsa Daley-Ward  
> "How I Asked You to Stay" by Trista Mateer  
> "Salt" by Naryyirah Waheed  
> "Garnish on a Lime Wedge" by Trista Mateer  
> "Song of Sadness" by Katie Ford


	4. it's hard not to be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa's being weird, Taco Tuesdays are for more than just tacos and Georgetown makes it to the conference finals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, real quick I just want to say thank you so much for the responses I've been getting for this fic. I kind of just jumped head first into it and to have people react to it the way you guys have makes me feel so incredibly happy. So thank you, and enjoy - we're a little over halfway through this story!

Something’s different when Lexa returns. Clarke notices it when her phone isn’t filled with back and forth texts between the two of them. She notices when Lexa shows up to class and she only offers Clarke a small smile before sitting in her seat. She isn’t avoiding Clarke - she still chooses to work with her during partner activities and engages in conversation. Clarke still feels it, something shifting between them.

She doesn’t like it.

“So how were your games this weekend?” she asks once they’ve finished the latest activity.

Lexa shrugs. “We won against Villanova and tied Creighton.”

Clarke smiles, nudging her knee gently against Lexa’s. “And how many goals did you score, superstar?”

The question makes the brunette roll her eyes and attempt to hide a smile. “One against Villanova and an assist against Creighton.”

The reaction makes Clarke relax a little and she grins at her. Conversation from there flows easier, but something’s still off and Clarke feels it despite Lexa smiling and participating in the conversation just as much as she is. When the professor dismisses class, they walk out together like they’ve become so accustomed to doing over the last month. Conversation stays simple, but Lexa’s busy on her phone for the better part of it. Clarke notices, but doesn’t mention it at all.

“I’ll catch you later,” Clarke tells her.

Lexa’s still looking at her phone screen before looking up and responding a whole five seconds later. “Oh yeah, of course. Bye Clarke,” she waves before taking off in the other direction.   
  


Taco Tuesday occurs at the Mexican restaurant down the street as opposed to Raven making them because Clarke found her on the couch whining about how tired she is and how she’s done so much all day. Now she, Raven and Octavia are happily munching on tacos. Raven had almost ordered a margarita to go with hers, but Clarke scolded her and Octavia glared with the argument “if I can’t get any, you’re out of luck too.”

“So,” Raven says in between bites of her taco. “Are you and Lexa dating yet? The tension is way too much for me to handle.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, it must be so hard for you Raven.”

The mechanic nods eagerly. “You have no idea.”

The blonde only snorts at her roommate and shakes her head. “Actually she’s been kind of weird lately. I don’t know.”

“Weird how?”

“I can’t really put a finger on it,” Clarke admits with a frown. “Something’s been off since this weekend.”

The two of them ponder for a moment until Raven glances at Octavia, who’s suddenly interested in finishing her tacos. Typically, Octavia has no problem jumping into the topic of Lexa and Clarke, and even sides with Raven on most things she says. She eyes her for a moment and when Octavia doesn’t look up to meet her she opens her mouth.

“Okay kid, what?” she asks.

Octavia swallows her bite and looks up, seemingly innocent. “What?”

“You know something,” Raven narrows her eyes at her.

“Why would you assume that?”

Clarke looks between Raven and Octavia. “Raven’s right. You’re being way too quiet.”

Octavia shrugs, sinking in her chair just a little. Raven and Clarke exchange another glance before returning their attention to the younger one.

“Spill,” Raven demands.

“O,” Clarke frowns. “Is something wrong?”

The freshman sighs, straightening up in her seat. “I don’t really know details,” she begins, picking at the remainder of her taco. “After the Villanova game this girl came up to Lexa. I can’t remember her name, the older girls know it - something with a C. They have history, I guess.”

“Do you know what happened?” Raven presses, noticing Clarke is processing the information.

“Not really,” Octavia shrugs. “They talked up until our coach was rounding us up to board the bus. She might’ve left to go see the girl after dinner, but I don’t know.”

“Huh,” Raven nods, sitting back in her chair, half a taco still in her hand.

“That’s why she was so weird when I asked her who you guys were playing,” Clarke says in realization, more to herself than anything. “She didn’t really want to talk about it.”

Octavia notices her demeanor and frowns. “Well, it could be nothing. Her ex could just be bothering her,” she suggests.

“Yeah Griff,” Raven nods enthusiastically. “You two flirt way too much with each other for this to get in the way.”

Clarke smiles, thankful for her friends. She knows they’re doing their best to look at this situation from all possibilities - mainly ones that benefit her. She nods and continues eating, signaling the end of conversation.

She’s not so sure about it being nothing.

 

“I’m home,” Lexa calls as she enters the apartment.

She can hear Anya cooking in the kitchen and smiles, slipping off her shoes before dropping her backpack off in the living room. She walks towards the kitchen and is surprised at the decoration she finds on the counter. There’s a bouquet of flowers with a note attached to it, and Lexa immediately smirks before looking at Anya.

“Is this from that guy at work? The one you told me always compliments you when you walk past him in the morning?” she asks, sliding onto the stool at the counter. She smells the flowers and smiles at their sweet smell.

Anya looks up from the stove and gives her a pointed look. “They’re for you.”

Lexa raises an eyebrow in confusion. “Me?”

Anya just stares at her, so she reaches over and plucks the card out of its perched position and opens it up.

> _ I’m so glad we’re working things out and trying again. You don’t know how happy this makes me. XO, Costia _

Her expression softens as she reads the note and there’s the slightest of smiles. She looks up to meet Anya’s “what-the-fuck-is-this” look as she turns off the stove.

“Would you care to explain?” Anya asks rather sarcastically.

“Did you read the note?” Lexa questions her.

Anya snorts. “Do you know me? Of course I did.”

The younger one shrugs. “Then I don’t know what I have to explain. She pretty much said it.”

Her sister shakes her head, a confused scowl on her face. “How did this even happen?”

“We talked after the game,” Lexa says simply, placing the card down and pulling the bouquet towards her.

Anya turns her back to Lexa, putting her attention back on the food she’s making so it doesn’t burn. Lexa lets herself admire the bouquet, trying to ignore Anya’s annoyance. She can tell her sister isn’t really fond of what’s going on and that she has so many more questions, but right now Lexa’s just pleased she isn’t hounding her.

“What happened to the girl who’s always here?” Anya asks almost ten minutes later, holding out a plate of food for Lexa. “Clarke?”

The forward blinks, taking the plate with a quiet thanks. “We’re friends,” she shrugs. She ignores the way that statement tastes wrong in her mouth.

Her sister shakes her head, looking at her as if she’s missing something huge. “The way you looked at her, Lexa. I saw it. You hadn’t looked that way since-”

“Things happen for a reason Anya,” Lexa snaps, placing her plate carefully on the counter next to her. “Costia and I-Maybe she’s in my life again because things may not have worked out with Clarke.”

“So you’re trying again with her because you’re scared of a falling out with Clarke?” Anya asks with a scoff. “That’s so logical, Lexa. Really, you’ve out done yourself.”

The sarcastic edge in her voice only makes Lexa clench her jaw before standing abruptly. “I don’t know if you can tell Anya, but it’s my life so let me do what I want. If I want to give Costia another chance, you’re not allowed to stop me.” She picks up the plate on the counter and looks at Anya with cold eyes. “If you need me, I’ll be having dinner in my room.”

Anya watches her storm off angrily with a rather aggressive door slam. She sighs, shaking her head. “If you want her to hurt you again kid go right ahead,” she mumbles.

> _ There is a girl who still writes you; _
> 
> _ she doesn’t know how not to. _

* * *

Clarke still makes an appearance for a study session at Lexa’s apartment that weekend. During the week Lexa’s been dodgy to where the only time they’ve gotten together is at the library once earlier that week. She’s noticed all the differences in Lexa now. The girl, who’s quick with a clever comeback, no longer quips out borderline flirtatious comments. She hold her gaze too long nor does she let her touches linger when it comes to Clarke. It’s all different and weird and Clarke doesn’t know what to do with it.

She still comes over Saturday morning to study at Lexa’s apartment. Anya’s apparently still sleeping - “Wild night,” Lexa snorts with a laugh (which Clarke tries oh so hard not to find adorable) - so they try to keep their voices down to accommodate her. There’s not much talking going on between the two of them anyway with their studying and all, but Clarke’s antsy. She wants to ask Lexa about Costia, wants to ask what changed and how Lexa decided to forget whatever was going on between her and Clarke when Costia approached her.

“Is it  _ nerveux _ or  _ nerveuse _ ?” she asks instead, looking up from her French assignment.

Lexa doesn’t glance up from her reading as she answers, “ _ Nerveux _ if whoever you’re talking about is male,  _ nerveuse _ if female.”

“Got it.”

Clarke looks at Lexa a moment longer. Her hair’s tied up and a messy bun with strands falling around her face as well as on the back of her neck. She’s wearing her glasses and they’re sliding down her nose ever so slightly as she continues to read down the page. She has never been more convinced that her favorite Lexa look is this: sweats, glasses and the seemingly permanent furrowed brow towards her textbook.

“Oh good morning kids.”

Clarke and Lexa look away from their school work and towards the stumbling Anya, who seems to be struggling to make it to the kitchen. She's still dressed in boxers and a big t-shirt she presumably fell asleep in (Lexa’s just glad Anya had clothes on at all) and her hair is a tangled mess around her head.

“There’s aspirin and a glass of water waiting for you on the counter,” Lexa tells her.

“Hi Anya,” Clarke greets.

Anya gives her sister a thumbs up and then smiles when she notices the blonde. “Hey there Clarke. Sup?”

“French,” she groans in response.

“Fucking sucks,” Anya nods in agreement before reaching the counter. She pops the aspirin into her mouth before downing the water.

“You’re a good sister,” Clarke concludes, turning her attention back to Lexa.

“Sometimes I forget I’m the younger one,” Lexa shakes her head, but there’s a slight smile on her face.

“Fuck off Lexa,” her sister says from the kitchen. “It’s too early to be dealing with your asshole comments.”

“It’s almost one in the afternoon,” Lexa retorts.

“I had a long night,” Anya growls, sitting on the stool before resting her head on the counter.

Before anyone can make any comments, Lexa’s phone rings and before Clarke can’t even do so much as peer over to glance at the caller ID. The forward’s answering it without a second thought.

“Hi,” she says softly.

Clarke and Anya exchange a confused look, but when Anya shrugs Clarke only turns her attention back to her homework, writing down the sentence using  _ nerveux _ instead of  _ nerveuse _ , like Lexa said.

“What?” Lexa asks whoever’s on the other line, brows furrowed. “Third floor...room 302.”

At this, Clarke looks back up at Lexa, then at Anya. Anya’s staring at Lexa so hard it's as if she thinks staring hard enough will reveal who’s on the phone. The artist turns attention back to Lexa as the brunette begins to pace.

“What’s going on?” she only sounds more confused with her eyebrows furrowing so hard she almost looks like she’s scowling, and Clarke’s ready to ask what’s happening when there’s a knock on the door.

Anya lets out a groan, letting her head fall back to the counter. “One of you get it.”

Lexa’s practically galloping to the door before Clarke can even properly stand up. The phone’s still pressed to her ear and she glances through the peephole.

“Oh my god!”

The brunette is quick to open the door before hanging up. Neither Clarke nor Anya can see the what’s happening so they just wait uselessly in their positions, Clarke awkwardly standing and Anya treating the counter like a pillow.

“Surprise.”

At this, Anya slowly lifts her head. “What the actual fuck,” she mutters.

“What?” Clarke asks, looking her way.

Anya only gives her a look - Sympathy? Pity? Sadness? A hungover gaze? - before the door is closing and Lexa is wrapped up in someone’s embrace.

“What? How?” Lexa’s clearly a mess of questions and confusion as she pulls away, staring at the visitor with wide eyes.

There’s a laugh before the answer. “We have a bye week so I decided to drive out and visit for the weekend.”

Clarke’s stomach drops because suddenly it clicks.

The two make their way into the living room and Clarke’s stomach only drops further when she sees her. She’s taller than Lexa by an inch or two, slimmer but still equally as built in her stature. Her olive skin goes well with her hazel eyes and her hair is pulled back in a slick high ponytail that falls down her back. In short, she’s kind of perfect. It’s almost no wonder Lexa didn’t walk away from her when the girl approached her after the game.

“Costia,” Anya says, lifting her head as she narrows her eyes at the girl. “It’s been a damn long time.”

Costia smiles despite Anya’s hostility (to which Lexa glares at Anya behind her guest). “It has indeed. It’s nice to see you again, Anya.”

“Please ignore her,” Lexa says with a sigh. “She’s dealing with a hangover.”

Anya only grunts in response, but she looks back at Clarke then at Lexa almost pointedly. It makes Lexa’s eyes widen ever so slightly as she looks between Clarke and Costia for a moment. Clarke’s looking at her with an almost intrigued expression, as if wondering what Lexa’s next move could possibly be.

The striker finally seems to snap out of her panic as she steps forward towards Clarke. “Costia, this is-”

“-Clarke,” the blonde finishes for her, making her way towards them and shaking Costia’s hand. “I’m Lexa's friend, we’ve been working on a French project together.”

Costia takes her hand and gives her a light handshake. “I’m Costia, it’s nice to meet you,” she smiles at her before looking at Lexa. “Finally putting your time in France to use now, are you?”

Lexa shrugs shyly. The sight of Costia and Clarke interacting is making her a little dizzy. “It was time to complete the foreign language requirement.”

“I bet you’re excellent at it,” Costia smiles at her, to which Lexa only bites her lip as her cheeks flush.

Clarke thinks she might be sick watching the two of them interact in this way. She thinks about her fingers running along Lexa’s tattoo, her lips tracing Lexa’s, the way she was always so quick with a flirtatious comeback. Now it’s all tainted because Clarke wonders about all the times Costia’s done the same.

“Well,” she clears her throat. “I think I should be heading out.”

“Oh,” Costia says, looking from Lexa to Clarke. “Did I interrupt while you guys were working?”

“No,” Clarke says quickly before Lexa can even open her mouth. “I think we’ve done enough for today.” She begins to dump all her things into her backpack, trying to move quickly but not so frantic that it’s obvious she’s trying to make her escape.

“Clarke,” Lexa says - and  _ God _ Clarke wishes she wouldn’t say her name like that, or at all. “If you want to stay a little longer-”

“It’s fine,” the blonde insists, zipping her backpack up and slinging it over her shoulder before turning around. “Really. You guys have fun, Lexa.”

“Clarke-” Lexa tries again, but Clarke refuses to let a word get in.

“I’ll see you in class,” she nods. “It was nice to meet you, Costia.”

“You too Clarke,” Costia smiles at her again. And Clarke gets it, gets why Lexa fell in love with her the first time - with her quiet smile and daring eyes it’s hard not to.

“You two have fun this weekend,” Clarke says, then looks at Anya. “Feel better, lots of water.”

“Fuck off Clarke, I’m the real adult,” Anya says, but her eyes are dull and her words lack venom when she looks at Clarke. “See ya, kid.”

Clarke offers them all a weak smile before making her way past Costia and Lexa and out the door.

(She doesn’t see Lexa’s sad eyes as she shuts the door. She misses the way Anya lets out a soft  _ tsk _ and the way she looks at Lexa as if she wants to say “Look what you did.”)

* * *

Lexa’s antsy all morning. She sits in French class and can’t seem to stop moving. Her eyes go from her professor to Clarke, trying to read the girl’s mood. They hadn’t spoken to each other the rest of the weekend, not after Clarke left. She wants to explain herself, to tell her Costia’s not a random girl that showed up at her doorstep and that nothing was happening - not until her trip to Villanova. In so many ways she feels guilty and it’s been eating at her since Clarke abruptly left her apartment on Saturday afternoon without even looking back.

The truth is, she doesn’t know what she would say. She doesn’t even know where to begin. Costia’s been an off-limits topic for everyone in Lexa’s life as soon as things went so terribly south and Lexa was unsure she’d ever feel something like that for anyone again. But Clarke deserves an explanation and Lexa knows it. She spends the remainder of class trying to figure out all the right words to say.

“Clarke,” she says as soon as she leaves her seat, quickening her pace to catch up to the blonde who’s practically already out the door.

Clarke turns around, slowing her stride when she realizes who’s calling her. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey,” Lexa greets as she falls into step with the girl.

(She tries to pretend she wasn’t expecting Clarke to wait for her so they could head out of the classroom together like they usually do.)

“How was your weekend?” she asks the striker, and it catches her off guard that Clarke’s the one to bring it up.

“It was good,” the brunette answers after a beat. “Actually, Clarke. I wanted to talk to you about that,” she begins, but Clarke waves her off.

“You don’t have to,” Clarke says.

Lexa’s so surprised she simply blinks and stares at Clarke for a moment. “No,” she shakes her head, finding her words again. “Costia and I haven’t been together. We weren’t...I haven’t...”

“I know Lexa,” the blonde tells her, noticeably slowing her pace. Her eyes remain looking in front of her instead of sparing a glance at Lexa walking beside her. “You guys have history, and she came up to you at Villanova and now you’re here.”

“Wait,” the striker gives a confused expression, slowing to a complete stop once they’ve exited the building. “How do you know that?”

Clarke stops too, and she turns to face Lexa. The bright, curious blue eyes she’s so accustomed to seeing seem less bright this time around. “You didn’t want to talk about Villanova and when you came back, you were weird - we were weird. I noticed it right away.”

Everything in Lexa seems to be hitting panic mode because Clarke’s looking at her as if she’s lost her. She wants to tell the girl she’s still here, she’s still Clarke’s Lexa, the one who seem to be super good at French and willingly blurts out poetry because Clarke doesn’t mind at all, doesn’t look at her like she’s weird.

“Clarke, I didn’t mean to-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me Lexa,” the blonde sighs, running a hand through her hair. “You don’t have to apologize or anything. You do know that, right?”

“But don’t I?” Lexa insists, trying to understand why Clarke seems so calm and reserved about this whole situation.

This is the girl who pulled away from Lexa because she wanted to make sure it wasn’t just because they were drunk and at a party, who wanted to be sure Lexa wanted Clarke when she was sober. She’s the one who - because she wanted to make sure nothing happened without Lexa being one-hundred percent in - slept on the couch and let Lexa take her bed. The one who mumbled "you're so beautiful" before pressing a kiss into her hair when she believed the brunette to be fast asleep.

Clarke just offers a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes like Lexa knows it should. “We weren’t dating, Lexa. You’re not cheating on me - there’s nothing to cheat on.”

Lexa’s left speechless as Clarke looks at her one more time before walking off to her other class. She knows she’s going to have to run if she wants to make it to practice on time now, but all she can do is watch Clarke walk away from her and feel her stomach drop in ways it shouldn’t when someone who you weren’t even dating tells you just as much.

* * *

Any remainder of summer is gone as fall makes itself clearly known. Leaves fully change colors, the wind in the air becomes more prominent and a week of midterms passes by. Regular season rapidly comes to an end and Georgetown’s done well enough in their season to be a part of the Big East Championship Game. 

“If we win this, we’ll probably automatically get a bid in the NCAA tournament!” Octavia tells Raven and Clarke over dinner one night.

Her eyes are hopeful, and she’s speaking so fast her two friends end up looking at each other with confused expressions. Octavia’s still going on about the tournament and Clarke barely understands any of it, but she looks attentively at Octavia and nods at all the right parts because she loves seeing Octavia so happy.

“So when’s the big game?” Clarke asks when Octavia’s done.

“Next Friday night.”

The blonde exchanges a glance at her roommate and then smiles at Octavia. “We’ll be there.”   
  


Friday night comes and Clarke’s sitting in the stands of Shaw Field. It’s gotten cold enough to wear a jacket at night, and she does so as she sits between Raven and an empty space that’s filled only a moment later with a smiling boy and three hot dogs.

“As requested,” he says as he hands one to Raven and the other to Clarke.

“Dude,” Raven says, taking a bite of his hot dog. “I just met you, but you’re already on your way to being my favorite Blake.”

He lets out an easy laugh, shaking his head. “I’m strangely okay with this.”

Clarke only rolls her eyes at Raven, giving her a nudge. “Don’t take her seriously Bell, she’s only swayed by the food.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” he shrugs, chuckling.

His eyes turn back to the field, where he watches his younger sister stand her ground. Clarke watches him for a minute before a small smile appears on her face. After dinner with Octavia earlier that week, Clarke had called Bellamy to ask if he’d heard the news and he immediately let her know he was making plans to fly out and surprise her. Clarke was more than willing to help. Keeping this a secret from Octavia was probably the most stressful part of the week, knowing that Bellamy was counting on her to not accidentally spill the beans. She’d managed to make it through to Friday somehow, and she picked up Bellamy with Raven two hours ago.

This moment makes Clarke feel nostalgic. She’s suddenly reminded of the countless soccer games she had attended with Bellamy in high school, cheering Octavia on from the bleachers or on the side of the field. They hadn’t been like this for awhile, and for Clarke this was something she was able to keep with her. As Bellamy yells encouragement towards Octavia - though they both know she won’t hear it - she smiles even more. The Blakes were the next closest thing to family she had besides her mother. It was nice to have it all in full swing again.   
  


It happens in the final seconds of the game.

They’re tied 1-1 and Bellamy looks like he’s about to ready to pass out if it comes to penalty kicks. Clarke looks on worriedly while Raven’s working through a bag of candy she’d grabbed before overtime began. 

The other team is advancing towards Georgetown’s goal. They get past the center circle and are passing too quickly for Georgetown to step up and take it from them. The girl on the other team is coming down the left flank and everyone knows it’s trouble if no one stops her. Octavia’s suddenly sprinting towards her, making a sliding tackle towards the girl, her cleat cleanly sending the ball away. Before anyone can blink Octavia’s up again as she runs after the ball, beating the other team to it. Everyone lets out a cheer as the anticipation builds. Octavia takes a touch before she’s dribbling madly down the flank.

“She’s got to give it to someone,” Bellamy mutters, eyes never leaving the field. “It’s gotta go, O. It’s gotta go.”

Octavia looks up, her whole team surging forward as the minutes tick down on the clock. There’s teammates screaming left and right and Octavia does the only thing that’s natural to her. She sends a diagonal ball that - if she’s hit it right - can make it over the backline. There’s only one forward streaking towards and and it’s none other than number twelve. Clarke’s own heart almost stops as she waits in anticipation as the ball nears the ground.

Lexa’s run is timed so perfectly that as the ball comes towards her and the defender she’s able to chest it down and get it on her right foot before surging past the defender. She looks up at the keeper running towards her and takes the slightest of touches to her right before slotting it in.

All Clarke hears around her is cheering and screaming and Bellamy yelling expletives in conjunction with Octavia’s name. Raven’s candy is scattered all across the floor from her jump and someone bumping into her. Bellamy turns to Clarke and pulls her into a hug, laughing and screaming “CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?!”. Clarke laughs, shaking her head because no she definitely can’t believe it.

(She likes to blame the fast heartbeat she has on just Octavia. That’s all. Nothing at all to do with the girl who saved them from a round of penalty kicks.)

Octavia’s already smiling so big Clarke doesn’t think she’s ever seen her happier. It takes her a moment, but she looks to Clarke’s left and notices her brother standing right there. His hands are stuffed into the pockets of his jeans and he’s wearing that proud smile he always does when it comes to her. Octavia lets out a yelp and finds the energy to sprint the rest of the way, dropping her cleats and backpack to jump into Bellamy’s arms.

“What are you doing here?!” the small girl breathes out, laughing as Bellamy hugs her tight.

Her brother chuckles softly, giving her a tight squeeze before helping her back to the ground. “You didn’t think I’d miss my kid sister’s first conference championship, did you?”

“Surprise,” Clarke adds, wiggling her eyebrows.

The defender looks from her brother to Clarke, grinning so wide her face could possibly burst. She lets out a squeal as she picks up her belongings. “I have to go get changed and locker room talk and all that,” she explains rather quickly and out of breath. “But we’re having a team dinner at the Italian restaurant down the street. You guys should come, family and friends are invited.”

“Go,” Bellamy nods at her. “You smell worse than usual.”

Octavia sends him a glare and sticks her tongue out before jogging away to catch up with the rest of her teammates.

(Clarke watches her go, but immediately regrets it because Octavia passes Lexa being pulled into a congratulatory kiss from Costia.)

(Instead she turns to Bellamy and smiles when he talks about how happy he is that he made it.)

 

The restaurant is warm and cozy and filled with the whole Georgetown women’s soccer team as well as all their family and friends that made it out to a game. Octavia’s managed to steal a booth just for the four of them and she sits across from Bellamy with Raven at her side, talking more rapidly than she ever has before. Clarke sits next to Bellamy, more than intrigued by the way Octavia’s incredibly animated with her brother here. She feels like she’s back home and nothing’s changed. They’re still the same trio they were before, but now Raven’s in on it too and she fits in just like she’s been there all along.

“Hey,” Bellamy nudges her knee with his gently while Octavia and Raven bicker over who gets the last spoonful of pasta. Clarke looks away from them and at the kind eyes looking down at her. “I’m really glad I’m here.”

Clarke smiles. “Me too, Bell. It’s been too long.”

Not once does Clarke look behind her to the table with Costia and Lexa and a few of her teammates.

* * *

Lexa isn’t jealous.

She shouldn’t be - she has no reason to be.

She’s in a relationship with the girl she’s been in love with for so long. They’re giving it another chance and it’s absolutely amazing. With Villanova not making it into the tournament, Costia willingly and eagerly makes the three hour drive on weekends her coursework allows her to. Lexa spends her mornings on the weekend waking up to a beautiful girl on the right side of her bed and kisses and smiles. Lexa hasn’t been happy like this since Costia left and she thinks maybe everything is falling into place.

Except for how her stomach turned on Friday night when she saw Clarke sitting with a boy at dinner after the game.

The way that Clarke seemed so at ease with him, how she was laughing and smiling at him. Lexa doesn’t remember Clarke being that giggly around anyone else. She had noticed, too, how Octavia seemed to beam at him the whole night. Lexa was smart enough to piece together that it must’ve been Octavia’s brother coming to support her sister.

It still didn’t make her feel any better. Not when Clarke was acting like that around him. Instead, it left a weird feeling in her gut and a reason for her to be slightly annoyed.

“So was that your brother the other night?” Lexa asks before practice the following week.

Octavia looks up from her shinguards to Lexa. They’re the only ones in the locker room at the moment, as it often is every day before the rest of the team slowly trickles in. “Bellamy? Yeah,” Octavia nods, smiling at the memory. “He flew in for the game and surprised me. He goes to Columbia.”

The forward hums, tying the laces of her cleats carefully. “Oh that’s so nice of him,” she says.

“Yeah it was great,” the younger one gushes, tucking her shinguards neatly into her socks. “So good to see him.”

The silence settles for another moment as Lexa ties her other cleat, trying to figure out the best way to go about it. Octavia pulls her socks up, patting her shin guards to make sure they’re in place.

“He and Clarke are close, huh?” Lexa finally says, focusing on the bow of her laces.

At this Octavia looks up at her. Lexa doesn’t meet her gaze and Octavia watches her for a moment. She looks on as Lexa pretends to be interested in the laces of her cleats, and how she’s waiting for an answered.

“Oh yeah,” she finally says, which gets Lexa to look up. “Bell’s literally in love with her,” the defender adds, rolling her eyes. Octavia knows what she’s saying, and she watches Lexa’s features carefully to gauge a reaction.

Lexa only nods, tugging at her braid to make sure it’s tight and in place. She doesn’t know how to respond to the comment. There shouldn’t be anything she feels about that, but yet something about Octavia’s reply makes her uneasy. She remembers how Clarke looked so happy to be reunited with the boy, how relaxed she was the whole night.

(She refuses to admit she wants to make Clarke feel that way. She can’t - she has Costia. Costia makes her feel that way and she makes Costia feel that way. That’s enough, right?)

Another cluster of teammates make their way into the locker room, carrying on conversation they were having outside. Lexa digs into her backpack, looking for pre-wrap she doesn’t need. Octavia watches her for a second longer before zipping up her backpack and tossing it into her locker. She makes a mental note of the conversation, noticing the way Lexa’s jaw twitched and her shoulders dropped slightly.

 

It’s probably the most awkward silence they’ve had in their entire friendship. Clarke’s over at Lexa’s as usual, and they have notes for the French project scattered on the coffee table and both their laptops sitting on the carpet. They sit on opposite sides of the coffee table, and Lexa’s making adjustments to their project while Clarke ruffles through her notes. Neither one says a word for a while, and it’s almost suffocating them.

“So,” Lexa finally says when her typing and clicking comes to a stop. Clarke lifts her head to look at her but Lexa keeps her eyes firmly on the screen of her laptop. “Octavia was telling me how her brother Bellamy was here. It must’ve been nice to see him.”

Clarke tilts her head slightly, taken aback at the random comment. She blinks, but when Lexa still doesn’t look at her she finds it in her to answer. “Yeah, it’s hard having him far away,” she admits. “I’ve missed him a lot.”

The brunette only nods, green eyes apparently glued to her screen. “He seems good for you, Clarke.”

“What are you talking about?” Clarke eyes, narrowing her eyebrows.

“I’ve heard he’s in love with you,” Lexa informs her as she glances at Clarke briefly before turning her attention back to her laptop. 

The blonde pulls a confused expression, wondering what the hell is going on. This is certainly news to Clarke Griffin, neighbor to the Blakes’ since kindergarten.

(Okay, well not really. She’s always had the slightest idea - she just never wanted to actually find out if it was true.)

“What? We’ve been friends since we were kids. That’s crazy,” she sputters, looking down at her notes and skimming them as if she’s actually looking for useful information (she isn’t). “Why would he?”

Finally, Lexa looks up from her laptop. Her green eyes lock on Clarke and there’s no trace of a tease or joke in her when she says, “It’s hard not to be.”

> _ I will lose you. It is written _
> 
> _ into this poem the way _
> 
> _ the fisherman’s wife knits _
> 
> _ his death into the sweater. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poems used:  
> "Postcards" by Sarah Kay  
> "The Sweater" by Gregory Orr


	5. longing for a girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia gets angry, girlfriends are smart and misunderstandings begin.

Georgetown’s women’s soccer team makes it through the first round of the tournament, only to be knocked out of the second round by the hands of one of top ten teams in the nation. Practices are less frequent and Octavia’s sad for awhile, which prompts Raven and Clarke to take her out to dinner and bring her candy until she’s smiling and making smart ass comments like they know she can.

Lexa and Clarke make more progress on their project, but with Costia visiting every weekend, there doesn’t seem to be enough time or will from either Lexa or Clarke to spend more time studying together. Instead of the blonde showing up at her door with Lexa’s go-to Starbucks order in hand, there’s a dark haired beauty stealing kisses as soon as she enters. Instead of being “forced” to take study breaks and being dragged into a black jeep and screaming lyrics at the top of her lungs, Lexa’s showing Costia all the best spots of Georgetown and DC, taking her to museums and letting Costia hold her hand.

Before any of them know it, Thanksgiving break arrives and everyone’s off their separate ways for the week. Anya has a business trip for most of the break, so Costia immediately offers Lexa to come home with her. Lexa more than obliges, figuring it’s much better than staying in her apartment alone for the holiday. 

“My parents are so happy you’re coming home with me,” Costia tells her, one hand on the steering wheel while the other rests on the console, intertwined with Lexa’s.

Lexa, who was previously looking out the window, turns to her. “Oh really? It’s been so long, I’m surprised they remember me,” she jokes with a soft smile.

Costia lets out a soft laugh, bringing Lexa’s hand up to her lips. “They could never,” she tells the forward, leaving a soft kiss on the back of her hand. “They always loved you, you know. Since high school.”

The forward smiles at her girlfriend, giving Costia’s hand a gentle squeeze. She can do this, she thinks. This right here, this is it. She’s happy and everything is falling into place. There’s nowhere else she should see herself right now.

(She ignores the feeling that somehow this isn’t enough for her. She ignores the longing in her chest for something more.)   
  


Her conversation with Lexa about Bellamy sticks with Clarke almost three weeks later. It keeps Clarke up at night, and it has her thinking. If she really thinks about it, she can see the signs. She can see the sheepish looks Bellamy’s given her over the years, the extra protection Clarke’s brushed off as “I’m like another sister,” the smiles he’s given her that he hasn’t seen him give anyone else. It’s all right there, staring back at Clarke.

And Clarke thinks about Lexa. She thinks about her green eyes and how they always looked at Clarke so gently. She can hear the echo of her soft laugh, the poetry she’d recite, the French she’s speak so flawlessly. Clarke thinks about how flushed and happy Lexa is when she’s drunk, how she doesn’t hesitate to throw her arm around Clarke, how she pulled Clarke towards the dance floor. She remembers feeling Lexa’s lips against her own, how Lexa’s hands were everywhere.

She also remembers how different Lexa was when she came back from Villanova, how she was distant. Clarke wonders if she’d just stopped waiting, just kissed her the week following the party. She wonders if she’d be the one holding Lexa, not Costia. Costia, who surprised Lexa with a weekend trip. Costia, who Lexa’s with right now. The thoughts make Clarke want to scream. She can’t stand how close she was, how oh so close she was to having Lexa, only to have her slip away.

 

“CLARKE GRIFFIN!”

Clarke almost falls off of her bed when she hears Octavia yelling through her house. She manages to scramble up into a sitting position when the small girl bursts through her bedroom door. What Octavia lacks in height definitely is made up for in the way her eyes look like they could kill.

“How’d you even get in my house?” Clarke asks immediately, noticing Octavia’s narrowed eyes at her.

Yikes, what did she do now? She hadn’t even been able to get out of bed yet.

“Your mom let me in on her way out,” Octavia explains to her as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You weren’t answering your phone!”

“God Octavia, maybe it’s because I was still asleep!” the blonde glares at her. She looks over to her phone, leaning over to hit the home button.

 

**Octavia Blake  
** **Missed Call (5)**

 

“Hey! Don’t get sassy with me!” the freshmen snaps, bringing Clarke’s attention back to her. “I came here to yell at you!”

Clarke falls back onto her bed and groans. “What? What could I possibly have done to cause this, O?”

Octavia crosses her arms as her eyes narrow even more. “How about going on a fucking date with my brother?”

At this, Clarke bolts back up into a sitting position. “He told you?”

It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, really. She’d asked him casually the day before when she was at the Blake household before she left. Octavia had been in the bathroom so Clarke figured it was a good chance to do it without making things super weird. She’d just suggested they should go out some time and when he sputtered in disbelief and asked “like on a date?”, she’d nodded and said “yeah” as if it were absolutely no big deal.

“Not exactly. He just couldn’t stop smiling so I jokingly asked and then he wouldn’t respond.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow. “I don’t see how this is a problem.”

The younger girl gapes, hands dropping. “He’s in love with you Clarke,” she explains with an exasperated sigh. “The boy is actually in love with you and has been for years.”

The blonde shrugs, twisting her lips. She’s suspected this for so long, but she’d never had any reason to push further and find out. She’d never been interested enough in him, never really thought about going further than best friends. “Then why shouldn’t I give him a chance?”

Octavia looks at Clarke for a moment in disbelief. “Seriously, Clarke?” When Clarke nods, she scoffs. “This is because of Lexa, isn’t it?”

“What?” Clarke almost shrieks, gaping at Octavia’s suggestion.

Octavia begins to pace around Clarke’s room, shaking her head. “You’re mad because you lost her, so now you’re trying to get back at her or something.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Clarke insists, standing up now and crossing her arms. “And for your information, Lexa’s the one who told me Bellamy’s good for me.”

Octavia stops pacing and looks at Clarke. She lets the words resonate between them and sink into the air before responding with, “He’s my brother, Clarke. He’s not just some boy that you can dump if it doesn’t work out.”

“Who says it won’t work out?” Clarke challenges with a quirked eyebrow. “You don’t know that it won’t.”

“You don’t know that it will,” she retorts.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “It’s better to try than to not even give it a shot until you realize it’s too late.”

Octavia softens at the statement, watching Clarke’s eyes change from defiance to something quieter. She knows the statement’s referring to Lexa and she’s almost tempted to reach out and comfort her.

“Don’t break his heart,” is all she says before stomping out of Clarke’s bedroom.

* * *

Lexa’s full from turkey and stuffing and all the food Costia’s mom insisted she eat. Being back in her hometown after so long felt so weird, but oddly comforting. Costia’s parents welcomed her back so warmly, having her seat at the table ready and everything. They had loved her back in high school, when Lexa and Costia were on the same team and Lexa was over more than she wasn’t.

The forward is currently curled up in the guest room of her former neighbor’s house. After her parents had passed and Anya was unable to come home and take care of her, her neighbors gladly let Lexa stay with them for the remainder of her high school years. They took care of her like she was their own child, and she couldn’t ever thank them enough. When she’d let them know that she’d be returning home for the break, the couple had been elated and insisted she stay with them and honestly Lexa couldn’t turn down the offer.

She’s toying with the idea of just falling asleep right here, still dressed in her jeans and sweater on top of her sheets with makeup still on when she feels her phone vibrate. Slowly, the striker reaches over to grab it.

 

**Costia [10:53 PM]: Hey, look out your window**

 

Lexa frowns at the message, confused. Slowly, she sits up and turns to face the window. Unable to clearly make out what’s waiting for her, she crawls to the other side of her bed, squinting. Costia’s leaning against the side of her car, smiling at her. The sight makes Lexa grin, taking her back to high school when she’d insist she had so much to study and Costia would drive up to her house and provide her with study snacks and offer to just sit and do homework together.

(And the memory is enough to make Lexa think that this is enough, that this is what she needs. That she’s happy in ways she used to be.)

“You’re crazy,” Lexa says when she opens the window and Costia comes towards her.

Costia laughs, her hair tied up into a neat bun and her sleek glasses fixed perfectly onto her nose. “Like you weren’t dying to see me.”

“I just saw you,” Lexa laughs softly, taking her hand and helping the girl inside.

Costia’s looking at her the way Lexa knows should take her breath away, but it doesn’t happen. It hasn’t at all since deciding to see Costia again. Lexa blames it on the fact that they’re still trying to understand each other once again, that she’s still cautious after Costia hurt her the first time.

“Doesn’t matter,” Costia insists, turning to take in the guest room.

It’s different than it used to be. Of course, Lexa took all her belongings with her when she moved to Georgetown to live with her sister and for school. It’s not very personal, but the desk her neighbors bought for her still sits at the foot of the bed.

“Lexa,” Costia gasps rather dramatically, looking at the desk. “Don’t tell me you actually were doing homework this morning?”

The striker pouts, hand on the still-open window. “Forgive me for trying to be productive and not fall behind in my classes.”

The other girl looks up from the desk, noticing Lexa’s pout and immediately softening her expression with a smile. “You are the most productive person I know.”

“Look who’s talking,” Lexa raises her eyebrows in return.

“Touché,” Costia smirks at her.

The striker only laughs, turning to close the window. She finishes locking it up before turning to see Costia’s hand on the table, presumably skimming through her papers. There’s a look of either interest or understanding on her girlfriend’s face - Lexa can’t decipher which one. Lexa’s brows furrow together in confusion, wondering what Costia’s reacting to. When she peers over to get a glance of it, her eyes widen.

“It’s beautiful,” Costia finally says, looking up from the scattered papers.

Lexa blinks, trying to read Costia’s reaction. “What is?”

“Both” is all Costia replies.

“What are you talking about?” Lexa asks her again, feeling the panic rising in her chest. She knows very well what Costia’s come across but she prays to God there’s some other way this could go. That there’s something else that this could possibly be about.

“Your poetry and this drawing of you,” the other girl explains, gently lifting each piece of paper up. “You did write this one, didn’t you?”

Lexa doesn’t need to look at the words to know they belong to her, that they’ve been running through her mind for weeks. It’s not one poem, but just lines that have run through her mind.

> _...she is what’s immense about the night. _
> 
> _ My body is burning with the shame of not belonging; my body is longing _
> 
> _ Sweet mother I cannot weave - / slender Aphrodite has overcome me / with longing for a girl. _

“Yes,” she answers quietly. Her heart begins to pound faster and she anxiously looks at Costia, trying to understand what’s going through the girl’s mind.

“And who’s wonderful artwork is this?” Costia asks, turning the paper over so Lexa can see the piece Clarke had given to her weeks ago. Her voice is level and calm and it only makes Lexa worry even more.

At the sight of it, Lexa clears her throat. “My friend, Clarke.”

Before she can explain any further, Costia’s filling in the blank. “She’s the blonde you were studying with, isn’t she? The one in your French class?”

Lexa nods, surprised that Costia remembers the interaction at all. It was brief (albeit awkward) with Clarke running out so fast and Anya glaring at Costia and Lexa for most of the time before trudging back to her bedroom. “Yes, that’s Clarke.”

Costia hums in confirmation and looks at both papers once more before meeting Lexa’s eyes again with a sad smile. “These lines of poetry aren’t about me, are they Lexa?”

And Lexa knows the words she speaks are meant to be a question, but something about the way they come out of her mouth make it very clear to the both of them that it isn’t. The Villanova soccer player knows the answer already, even when Lexa refuses to admit it to anyone, even herself.

She pauses for a moment, trying to figure out the words to say. Her brows are still furrowed together and she’s looking all sorts of confused and flustered that her only words she can manage are “Costia, I…”

Costia only slightly grimaces, placing the papers back down on the desk gently. “It hasn’t been the same, you know. You and me, something’s been different. I’ve been able to tell.”

Lexa shakes her head, taking a step towards Costia. “Of course it’s different,” she reasons, running a hand through her hair. “We’re still figuring it all out, trying to understand each other again.”

“Lexa,” the other girl says gently, her voice still steady but Lexa can hear the sadness seeping through. “I’ve had it figured out. I wanted to try again, that’s why I came up to you after the game. It’s the reason I drive three hours to see you when I can. I made my mistakes, and I know that now. I still love you.”

“I know that,” Lexa insists. “I do.”

Costia sighs, looking at Lexa with a troubled expression. “I know you do, but do you still love me?”

What should happen is Lexa immediately responding that yes, she does still love Costia. It’s the right move, it’s the move Lexa’s supposed to make. But it doesn’t. Instead, Lexa opens her mouth but nothing comes. She wants to say that she does, because Lexa knows somewhere inside of her, she still longs for Costia and how things should be with her. 

“See?” the other girl says, as if that’s reason enough.

“N-no,” Lexa finally blurts out, finding her words. “It’s not that I still don’t, it’s just-”

“-that you feel something for Clarke,” Costia interrupts, the sad but understanding expression back again. Her usually daring eyes are so much softer now and her shoulders are sagged in somewhat of a defeat.

“What?” the forward sputters. “Clarke? We’re just-Clarke’s just-we’re…”

She doesn’t know what to say, because yes, there was something there for Clarke. There had been the innocent crush when she’d noticed Clarke the first day of the semester. There was the growing attraction when they first encountered each other. There was the fast and hard falling that Lexa knew she couldn’t stop. Lexa had believed it would’ve never amounted to anything - there was no way Clarke would feel the same way, not like Lexa felt. But then there was the party: the way Clarke kissed her, the way she eyed Lexa like she was the most important thing in the world, and the way she didn’t want to go further with Lexa until she gave the okay. It was undeniable then, but Lexa knew she had been afraid. She didn’t want to get hurt again, but Clarke was ever so patient that following week. The tension between them had built, and as soon as Costia came back into her life, Lexa picked the safe option. She picked familiar Costia, who she could finally get the re-do she’d wished for for so long.

“There was something there before you played at Villanova,” Costia tells her, knowing Lexa needs to hear the words. “You and her, there was something there. She was so quick to leave when I came to surprise you - hardly even looked me in the eye.”

Lexa stays quiet, staring at Costia in disbelief, surprised at how she’s pieced it all together while Lexa was denying herself of the truth the whole time.

“And you haven’t been in this relationship all the way,” she continues, ruefully looking at Lexa. She’s not mad, but Lexa can hear the disappointed and slightly upset tone in her voice. “You weren’t fully here with me, Lexa. It’s like there was something else that had your attention sometimes.”

“I didn’t mean to-” Lexa tries, but Costia shakes her head, cutting her off.

“I know you didn’t,” Costia admits, stepping closer to her. She gently brushes loose strands of hair away from Lexa’s face. “You tried to be with me, but you couldn’t - not completely.”

Lexa’s eyes fall to the ground, unable to take the look on Costia’s face. There’s no trace of anger or jealousy at all in her voice. The worst part of it all is that Costia isn’t mad at her, like this was bound to happen, or like it was there all along and Lexa just did her best to pretend it didn’t exist.

Costia’s index finger slips under Lexa’s chin and she lifts it so the girl looks at her again. “Stop trying to fool yourself Lexa, you’re in love with her. Don’t let her get away from you because you’re too busy trying again with someone it didn’t work out with the first time.”

Lexa holds her gaze. Their eyes are both sad, but Costia’s hold something more. She’s understanding and accepting of the mess in front of them, and Lexa wonders what she’s ever done to deserve someone like this - someone who isn’t even mad that Lexa’s pining for someone else when she has this wonderful human right in front of her.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa whispers.

“Me too,” she replies, dropping her hand from Lexa’s chin. “I should go.”

“Okay.”

“I’m right, you know.”

“I know.”

Costia offers a half-hearted smile before she walks over to the window, unlocking it and opened it to make her exit. Lexa watches her, heaviness in her chest. Costia was a chapter of her life she never really got over, but she knows this is it right here. This is really the end of it.

“I’ll see you next season, Georgetown,” she says, turning to look at Lexa one more time.

“See you, Villanova,” Lexa replies.

Costia throw one more smile before she climbs out the window and walks to her car. Lexa slowly walks to the window, leaning against the window sill as she watches Costia get into her car and walk away.

> _ I don’t know how to exist properly _
> 
> _ in the same space as someone _
> 
> _ I don’t love anymore. _

* * *

 

Dating Bellamy is weird. 

It’s not like it’s awkward and uncomfortable (okay, maybe a  _ little _ ), but it’s just something Clarke never ever pictures herself actually doing. So far it hasn’t been too bad, but they’ve faced a few awkward silence and interactions over the course of the week. Clarke doesn’t want to admit it, but she feels like by dating her childhood best friend she’s losing the best friend part of him - of them.

“Can I have an americano and a mocha latte?”

Clarke returns the smile that Bellamy gives her after he orders, knowing that he’s known her go to drink for years. It just feels different now, that it’s another coffee that’s being paired with her order instead of tea. She’s made too many Starbucks stops and study “dates” with Lexa that if you were to ask her to order right now, Lexa’s order would follow hers without thought.

Lexa.

The thought of her name alone is enough for Clarke to want to sigh heavily and groan about how she’d lost her. She wonders what the wonder striker was up to, and if she was doing okay. When she remembers that Lexa had mentioned something about spending the holiday with Costia, Clarke immediately forces herself to stop thinking about, not wanting to even imagine how happy she must be right now.

How Clarke should be the one making her happy.

“You okay, Princess?” Bellamy asks her as they occupy a table, waiting for their drinks. “You’re zoning out on me.”

“Yeah,” Clarke nods, turning her attention back to the boy seated in front of her. “I’m fine, I just got distracted.”

Bellamy fills the air with small talk for awhile, and Clarke relaxes. This is easy, she figures. This. The guy in front of her isn’t a stranger, he knows all her quirks and mannerisms and her likes and dislikes. He knows her history, knows about her dad and lived it with her. So, this has to makes sense. Screw Octavia’s logic.

“Can I be honest with you?” he asks, lifting up his drink to take a sip.

“Always.”

“This is weird,” Bellamy states before taking a sip.

Clarke looks at him with an eyebrow raised in confusion. “Your drink? Did they make it wrong?”

He lets out a soft, awkward chuckle as he places his drink back down onto the table. “No, I’m not talking about my drink.”

(It’s in this moment that Clarke wonders why she never swooned at Bellamy’s boyish charm and charisma just like every other girl in their high school. It’s all been right there, hasn’t it?)

“Oh,” Clarke frowns, still confused. “Then what’s weird?”

“I was talking about this,” he repeats, shifting in his seat. “You and me.”

The blonde shrugs, trying not to show relief that she’s not the only one who feels it too. She instead looks down at her cup. “I mean, yeah kind of.”

Bellamy looks at her for a moment before letting out a quiet laugh. “You know I’ve wanted this for so long, but I never thought it would happen.”

“I didn’t either,” Clarke mumbles under her breath, but Bellamy’s not done so she lets him keep going.

“You’re my best friend Clarke,” he continues. “Always been by my side for all these years. I just thought - you know, it’s bound to happen. I wanted it so badly to happen. And now here we are.”

“Here we are,” Clarke echoes, trying to understand what has him going off on this rant. She’s slightly uncomfortable, if she’s being honest.

(She’s trying to ignore the feeling that this isn’t right, that this isn’t what she wants.)

Bellamy goes on. “The thing is, I love you Clarke, I really do-”

Clarke’s stomach drops, she tries so hard to remain unchanged. Her eyes are widening and her jaw almost drops, but she saves herself from looking like she’s surprised. This is not what she was expecting. She didn’t think Bellamy would be announcing his love a few days into trying this whole “dating” thing out, that he would do it in the middle of a Starbucks when Clarke was just casually sipping on coffee.

“-but I don’t think we’re supposed to be anything more than best friends.”

The blonde looks up, eyes actually widening this time. She’s not sure if she’s heard right. “What?”

“You’re great Clarke, I swear. It all just feels kind of forced, like we’re losing who we are because we’re dating,” he explains patiently. He doesn’t look upset or disappointed at all, and Clarke takes that as a good sign. “I don’t want to lose my best friend because I’m trying to make us something that we’re not.”

Clarke lets out a long sigh of relief. “I thought I was the only one who felt we were losing ourselves.”

Bellamy only gives her his signature boyish smirk. “We’re best friends, Princess.”

“So I take it you no longer want to date,” Clarke suggests, making sure she’s getting it all right.

He nods. “I mean, if that’s what you want of course.”

(She pretends she doesn’t notice the slight flicker of disappointment on his face that disappears just as quickly as it came. She knows they’re making the right decision, especially when Bellamy - who Clarke knows loves her - says so.)

“I’m not going to lose you because we force anything,” she tells him, her voice sure and steady.

They sit in a weirdly comfortable silence for a few moments, sipping on their drinks and letting the buzz of everyone else around them take over. Clarke feels at ease in this moment, knowing that she isn’t being pressured or forcing something that wasn’t right in the first place. Sometimes, she wonders if there’s a universe where her and Bellamy would work out that way, but one glance at the boy and she knows he’s family.

“So what was this really about?” Bellamy finally asks, breaking the silence between them.

“Excuse me?”

He chuckles, easy and unoffended. “Come on Clarke, never once in your life have you seriously thought about us dating. Why now?”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Clarke scoffed.

“So you’re saying Octavia has been giving me attitude all week for no reason?” When Clarke remains silent, Bellamy adds gently, “I won’t be mad, you know.”

“There’s no reason,” she mumbles, glaring at her cup, picking away at the cardboard sleeve of her cup.

“Clarke.”

“No.”

“What’s their name?”

“Shut up, Bell.”

“Clarke.”

“It’s stupid,” she groans, looking up from the cardboard. “There’s no point. She got back with her ex. I missed my chance. I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“Drop it,” Clarke warns.

“Come on.”

“No.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Beautiful,” she admits, voice low and reverent as her eyes glass over because all she can see in her mind is green eyes and that knowing smirk.

“What happened to the Griffin charm, huh?” Bellamy teases, nudging her cup with his own almost empty one. “Girls dig that.”

“It worked,” Clarke says, a ghost of a smile on her lips as she thinks about how flushed Lexa could get with a single word from Clarke. “It did.”

“But?”

“But her ex worked, too.”

They sit in silence for a minute, Bellamy looking at Clarke and Clarke staring hard at her cup as she tries not to think about Lexa and what she’s up to.

“She’s dumb for not going for you, Clarke.”

She looks at him. “So am I.”

* * *

There are roughly a week and a half classes left before finals.

Lexa’s been thinking this through so carefully since watching Costia leave. She knows she wants Clarke - in fact, she’s known all along. The only thing holding her back was how afraid she’d been that Clarke would be too good for her, that she’d leave just as Costia left - or that Clarke wouldn’t even think of her in that way at all because if she hadn’t been enough for Costia, how could she ever be enough for Clarke? But Clarke looked at her so reverently that night at the party, and every moment after that it was almost impossible not to melt at the sight. To have someone who wanted you maybe just as much as you wanted them, that was something Lexa knew was special.

Running back to Costia was a mistake, and Lexa understands this now. She understands that she let Costia back in because she was scared. At least, if she was with Costia, there would be nothing new or unexpected. She knows Costia, has known her years even before they were together. She’s always been the safe option. She can only hope Clarke still wants her now, that she hasn’t given up and turned to someone else (and the uneasy feeling in her stomach says it could possibly be Bellamy).

Her mind’s been racing with all the things she’s going to say to Clarke when she sees the girl again. She’s gone over what she needs to tell her, all the words carefully picked and replaced over and over again. It’s kept her up at night, struggling to find the best way to express all that she’s feeling inside. It doesn’t help Anya won’t be coming home until Monday night, leaving the striker alone in their apartment.

Lexa’s on campus the afternoon before classes begin again on her way to Echo’s dorm so they can go to the soccer field and kick the ball around for a little bit before dinner. Campus is starting to fill up again, with everyone returning in time for their last stretch of classes for the semester. She’s just made her way to the cluster of dorms when she thinks about Clarke. She wonders if the girl’s made it back from home yet, and if she’s at her apartment. For a fleeting moment, Lexa thinks about visiting her after dinner. It doesn’t last long because she realizes she’s never even been to Clarke’s apartment, so showing up would be kind of weird.

Her phone buzzes and she sees a text from Echo asking where she is. Lexa types out a reply and hits send, looking up as she passes the parking lot for students who live in the dorms across from them, watching as people mill about.

There’s a laugh that makes Lexa’s insides warm, pleased to hear it.

She stops walking; she knows that laugh.

Towards the front of the parking lot, she finds the source. Octavia’s pulling out her bag from the trunk, ignoring the other girl. Clarke’s there, she laughing so vibrantly loud it makes Lexa ache with longing. She’s so beautiful it’s almost as if time apart has made her this way.

Clarke and Octavia are not alone, Lexa realizes.

There’s the boy from the night of the Big East championship - the one Lexa now confidently identifies as Octavia’s older brother. He’s smiling at the laughing Clarke, and he swoops her up into a hug, forcing her onto her tip-toes and slowly spinning them in a circle. They both let out loud laughter, happy and full making Lexa’s heart ache in all the wrong ways. Clarke looks up at him, shaking her head with a smile on her face. She giggles as she rests her head on his shoulder.

Lexa feels sick to her stomach.

She does the only thing she knows she can: she runs.

Everything she’d spent days and nights thinking up, all the words she knows she was going to tell Clarke, it all falls away. The image of Clarke and Bellamy laughing, happy,  _ together _ is imprinted in her mind. She does a weird fast walk-jog the rest of the way to Echo’s dorm building, trying not to think. Trying not to see Clarke or Bellamy or either of them.

Clarke didn’t wait for Lexa.

Clarke listened to Lexa, listened to the wrong things Lexa had told her.

_ (“He seems good for you, Clarke.”  _ Clarke seemed to have heard.

_ It’s hard not to be in love with you because haven’t you seen it? I am too _ , Clarke clearly didn’t hear at all.)

Lexa suddenly feels like she’s suffocating. She feels like she’s drowning, and there’s no way to save herself.

> _ Here is the truth: _
> 
> _ It is hard to be in love with someone _
> 
> _ who is in love with someone else. _
> 
> _ I don’t know how to turn that into poetry. _

* * *

Clarke had decided early on in the break that being away from Lexa helped - she needed space from her. That’s until Lexa walks into class in skinny jeans and a white shirt with a leather jacket with her hair falling down in waves. It’s impossible, but Lexa seems to be more beautiful than she was a little over a week ago when Clarke last saw her. She’s just glad Octavia and Raven are nowhere to be found, for they’d immediately catch the blonde’s reaction to the striker and tease her for it.

“Hello Clarke,” Lexa greets softly when their professor pairs them off for one of the last group activities of the semester. “How was your break?”

“It was good,” Clarke tells her after a moment, pretending to be too focused on flipping through pages to look at her. “Really nice to be home. How about you?”

Lexa slightly stiffens, but Clarke’s not looking at her. “It was fine.”

“It must’ve been nice to spend it with Costia,” the artist adds. When there isn’t an immediately reply, she looks up to find Lexa still stiff and slightly caught off guard.

“Actually,” Lexa says, quietly clearing her throat as she glances from Clarke to the textbook. “Costia and I are no longer together.”

Clarke blinks in shock of the news, but does her best to hide it. “Oh.” She pauses, carefully trying to decide on how to continue with the topic without upsetting Lexa. “I’m sorry. I know she means a lot to you.”

The striker fixes her gaze back at Clarke, green eyes wide and a little sad, but there’s something else Clarke doesn’t understand in there, something she can’t decipher. “Don’t be. It was the best decision for us - for the both of us.”

“Oh,” she says again, unsure what to make of it. 

Lexa doesn’t contribute more information to the topic, so they’re left in an awkward silence before Clarke finally clears her throat and reads the instructions for their group activity aloud. It’s enough to get Lexa temporarily out of her mood, and Clarke’s even able to coax a smile or two out of her by the time class is over.

“Hey,” Clarke says as they walk out of the classroom almost twenty minutes later. “If you’re not busy tomorrow night, you should come over to my place for Taco Tuesday. Octavia comes too, and Raven’s tacos are the best.”

Lexa’s eyebrows lift in surprise at the invitation. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be intruding on something special.”

“You aren’t,” Clarke assures her immediately. “It’ll be fun. Plus, if you don’t have practice there will be beer and tequila.”

“Wow,” the striker laughs, shaking her head. “I guess I can’t say no now.”

“I’ll text you my address,” the blonde promises with a smile. “No better way to get over breakups than Taco Tuesday.”

“Should I bring anything?”

“Just yourself.”

As she walks away, Lexa throws a smile over her shoulder back at Clarke. Even with the image of Clarke and Bellamy in the back of her mind, she can’t help but melt because Clarke  _ cares _ and she’s trying to make Lexa feel better.

Like  _ that’s _ supposed to help her feelings for Clarke subside.   
  


“You invited her to Taco Tuesday?” Raven repeats, staring at Clarke in disbelief.

Clarke shrugs, tapping the end of her pencil against her textbook. “Yeah, I don’t know. She just broke up with her girlfriend and I thought maybe hanging out with us and having a drink or two would make her feel better.”

The mechanic smirks. “You mean spending time with  _ you _ , not us. You really like her, huh Griff.”

“Shut it,” the blonde warns with no true malice behind her voice. She ducks her in head, letting her hair fall around her face to prevent Raven from seeing her cheeks flush. “I’m just trying to help.”

“She’s single,” Raven reminds her.

Clarke scoffs, looking back up at her friend. “She just broke up with her girlfriend, Raven. Have some decency.”

“Hey,” the brunette says, putting up her hands in mock innocence. “You’re the one who invited her to Taco Tuesday. Isn’t that like a date?”

“You and Octavia are going to be here too.”

“It’s like we’re supervising,” Raven grins.

“God, I hate you.”   
  


“Lexa? I’m home.”

Lexa lifts her head up from the couch, recognizing Anya’s voice immediately. She sits up slowly, turning to see Anya walk in with her carry-on in one hand and a purse in the other. Her older sister looks tired, and she drops both of her belongings at the door before making her way over to Lexa. The younger girl stands, and before she knows it she’s in Anya’s embrace.

Anya’s comforting and familiar. They aren’t a family huge on affection, but this right here is exactly what Lexa needs.

“I’m sorry about Costia,” Anya mumbles into Lexa’s hair as the girl clings to her. “She’s right, you know.”

Lexa lets out a strained laugh, resting her head on Anya’s chest. “Isn’t she always?”

It gets a chuckle out of her older sister. “She’s always been smart,” she admits, pressing a kiss on the top of Lexa’s head.

“Clarke invited me to Taco Tuesday with her roommate and Octavia tomorrow night,” the striker informs Anya, lifting her head up from her sister’s chest to look at her.

“You’re going, right?” Anya asks, but it sounds like more of a demand paired with her knowing smirk. “And you’re going to stop being scared and tell her how you feel.”

Lexa grimaces, pulling away from her sister’s grasp. “I can’t.”

Her sister groans in frustration, rolling her eyes. “Yes you can, Lexa. She’s not Costia.”

“She’s seeing someone.”

“What? Who?”

“It’s Octavia’s brother,” Lexa explains with a deep sigh. She makes her way back to the couch, flopping onto her with a soft thud. “They’ve been best friends since like, ever. Octavia told me he’s practically in love with her.”

“Oh shit,” Anya's smirk falls.

“I saw them the other day. He came with them back to school. He was with her,” she goes on, voice sounding softer and more fragile as she continues.

“Oh Lexa,” her sister sighs, making her way around the couch to sit next to her. “My smitten little poetic soccer superstar.”

Lexa snorts at the reference, but doesn’t shrug off the arm Anya puts around her. They don’t say anything for a few moments, letting the silence sit. The younger girl leans into Anya, thankful for the silent comfort her sister offers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poems used:  
> "Dwelling" by Li-Young Lee  
> "Conversations About Home" by Warsan Shire  
> "Sappho 102" by Sappho (translated by Diane Rayor)  
> "4/23" by Trista Mateer  
> "3 Beers In" by Clementine von Radics


	6. worth every second of time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven makes bomb tacos, Clarke and Lexa hang out on the library roof and Anya gets to play annoying big sister.

“So, she and Costia are done?”

“Yes.”

“Who broke up with who?”

“She said it was the best decision for the both of them - so it might have been mutual?”

“Yeah right, I bet Costia broke up with her again.”

“O,” Raven warns from her place in the kitchen.

“What?” Octavia scoffs, looking from Clarke to Raven. “She fucked you over, Clarke! You guys had this thing and then she runs off with Costia the second she sees her.”

“Not that you’re wrong O,” the girl in the kitchen frowns. “But tone it down for a second.”

The freshman crosses her arms with a pout. “I can’t believe you invited her to Taco Tuesday.”

Clarke closes her eyes for a moment, fingers rubbing at her temple. “She just broke up with Costia, and I don’t know all their history, but Costia was someone really important to her. Lexa’s smart, I don’t think she’d go back to Costia for no reason.”

“Aren’t you friends with her, O?” Raven chimes in. “Like, your teammates, aren’t you?”

Octavia shrugs. “We aren’t super close and we do well together when we play, but she got involved with Clarke, and Clarke always comes first.”

Clarke opens her eyes, smiling at Octavia. “Love you, Octavia. I can take care of myself, though.”

“Love you too sweetness,” Octavia grins, patting Clarke’s head gently. “That’s why I’m your favorite Blake, even if you did date my brother for a week just to get back at Lexa.”

Clarke groans as she visibly cringes. “Let’s not talk about that.”

Raven bursts out laughing, making Clarke only cringe more. “I’m sorry, it’s just - when O texted me, it was just so funny. Highlight of my holiday.”

“ _ Please _ don’t bring it up in front of Lexa,” the blonde begs the both of them. 

“So this  _ is _ a date!” Raven accuses.

“Damn Clarke moving in on her already,” Octavia comments with a smirk.

Clarke lets out a frustrated groan, slouching into her chair. “This is going to be a long Taco Tuesday,” she mutters under her breath.

Before anyone else can get another word in, there’s a tentative knock on the door. Raven looks from Clarke to Octavia, refusing to move from her spot in the kitchen. Octavia looks to Clarke, whose eyes are suddenly wide and she seems frozen to her seat.

“Please answer the door before Octavia does or says something either embarrassing or mean to Lexa,” Raven begs.

“Right,” Clarke nods, snapping out of her state.

She scrambles out of her chair and jogs to the door, opening it to reveal a nervous Lexa. The girl’s dressed in dark washed ripped jeans and brown boots. Her forest green sweater hugs her in all the right places, and she wears a thick jacket over it all with a beanie adorned on her head. Her hair is down in waves again and Clarke feels her knees go a little weak at the sight of it all together - at the sight of her.

“Lexa,” she breathes. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Lexa smiles at her.

“Come in, Raven’s just finishing up.” Clarke ushers her inside, helping her out of the jacket and placing it on the rack.

“Nice place,” Lexa comments, looking around as she takes off her beanie.

Clarke shakes her head. “Not as nice as yours.”

Lexa only offers her a small shrug. “Anya’s a real adult with an actual paycheck.”

“A good one at that,” Clarke mumbles, and smiles when it makes Lexa laugh.

She leads her to the kitchen where Raven’s starting to put food on plates and Octavia hovers over her, trying to snag a piece of whatever she can when she thinks Raven isn’t looking.

“Hey Lexa,” Raven greets her when she looks up. “You’re just in time.” She quickly swats away Octavia’s prying hand.

“Ow,” Octavia frowns, rubbing the area Raven just hit her. “Sup Woods.”

“Hi,” she says to both of them. “It smells really good in here.”

“Oh I know it does,” the mechanic tells her smugly.

Clarke scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Ignore her, it’s just her ego growing impossibly bigger,” she tells Lexa who laughs softly.

“Watch it Clarke,” Raven glares at her over the food. “I can make this the worst night of your life.”

Octavia has a smirk on her face and Lexa looks with an amused expression from Raven to Clarke.

“Get me a beer please,” is all Clarke grunts, rolling her eyes. She’s going to need a drink or two if she wants to get through this night without constantly wanting to kill Raven.  
  


A few fish tacos and a bottle of beer later, Lexa’s glad she came. Initially, she had been nervous and worried about everything. Octavia had been kind of cold to her since Villanova, and Lexa wants to believe it’s because of anything else but Costia. She gets to know Raven more than just the girl who can hold her liquor and is super fun when drunk. She learns about how Raven's a mechanic and studying some space science shit Lexa can’t even try to keep up with. She’s funny too, constantly making jokes and taking teasing jabs from her two friends.

Her favorite part to watch is Clarke looking at Octavia and Raven like they’re some of her favorite people in the world. They probably are, Lexa figures, but something warms her heart when the teasing and the childish yelling stops in the few quiet moments, there’s a gentleness they have with each other that Lexa realizes makes the trio more than just friends, it makes them family.

Lexa’s heart aches at the idea of it all.

“So Lexa,” Raven says as Clarke clears the table. “How good are you at board games and trivia?”

Lexa smirks, excited at the prospect of competition. “I may know a thing or two.”

“Let’s play, Woods.”

 

Beer leaves a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach, but so does spending time with these three. Raven and Clarke find out quickly just how competitive Lexa can get, which set Octavia  - who immediately claimed her and Lexa would be a team - into a fit of laughter because she’s known it since August.

“Jesus fuck Woods,” Raven curses, shaking her head. “You don’t play around.”

“I play to win,” Lexa says simply, flipping her hair off her shoulder.

Octavia laughs. “Never get in the way of Lexa and winning. Shame you didn’t know that, Clarke.”

Clarke shakes her head, her eyes lighting up as she looks at the smug Lexa. “Well I should’ve known by the way she is when she disagrees with something.”

Lexa only rolls her eyes, finishing off her beer. “I’m always right, Clarke. You know it.”

“Finally,” Raven comments, giving an amused look to Clarke. “Someone who puts the Great Big Griffin in her place.”

“Shut up,” Clarke sticks her tongue out at her. She’s sitting on the other side of Lexa, and she leans over just enough to nudge the girl’s shoulder. “It’s not my fault she’s so passionate about everything that comes to her mind.”

Lexa laughs, loud and full and she doesn’t miss the way Clarke smiles widely when she does it. “I won’t apologize for that.”

Clarke looks at her, blue eyes shining and her smile impossibly widens. “Good,” she tells Lexa, her hand not holding a bottle of beer resting above her knee. “You shouldn’t.”

The striker tenses ever so slightly, but she doesn’t think Clarke notices. The night’s been fun and all, but Clarke’s been closer than usual. She’s always near Lexa, always close by. There have been more brushing hands, more gentle touche than Lexa knows what to do with. She’s thankful for the beer making her all warm and fuzzy already because honestly if she had to deal with this sober she might’ve just exploded way before dinner was over.

Throughout the night she’s been subtly brushing Clarke’s hand away or scooting just out of reach, away from Clarke and her warm hands and her warm leg pressed against hers. If this was weeks ago, Lexa maybe would’ve let herself give in. She would let Clarke lean against her, let her rest her hand on her knee or her arm or even on top of her own hand. Except now things are different because Clarke is dating someone that isn’t Lexa, and the last thing Lexa needs is to let herself indulge in Clarke’s attention, her warmth, her looking at Lexa with those god damn blue eyes.

She can’t keep falling in love, not when the person she loves is with someone else.

“Okay! Another round!” Raven demands, clapping her hands together.

Lexa laughs at her enthusiasm, moving her knee towards her other leg. Clarke’s hand naturally slides off and she turns to Octavia, who’s going on about how having Lexa on her team is the best idea ever.  
  


“I should really head back,” Lexa sighs after a few more rounds of games.

She leans back, the arch in her back ever-present as her hands go up towards the ceiling. She’s stretching and her sweater lifts up slightly to expose her stomach and Clarke really wishes she wouldn’t do that. The blonde feels Raven’s eyes on her and there’s that stupid smirk on the mechanic’s face paired with raised eyebrows.

It’s an honest miracle she hasn’t killed Raven tonight.

“You should come over more often,” Raven tells Lexa.

Lexa smiles at her as she stands. “I had a lot of fun tonight. It’s all up to if Clarke invites me over again,” she looks pointedly at the blonde, who also stands a moment later.

“Maybe if you tone down the competitive streak,” Clarke teases, sighing in relief in her head because she’s made it through the night without getting too embarrassed.

“Jerk,” Lexa scoffs, but there’s a laugh that follows as she hits Clarke’s arm.

“Come on,” Clarke chuckles softly, grabbing her hoodie from the recliner. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

She catches Raven and Octavia making faces at her, which Lexa doesn’t seem to notice (thank God), and she only rolls her eyes at them as she and Lexa make their way to out the door, only stopping to grab her jacket and beanie.

“Be back!” Clarke calls out her roommates.

“Take your time!” Raven shouts back and the blonde only shuts the door a little harder than acceptable in response.

Clarke’s noticed Lexa distancing herself from her. She knows she hasn’t stepped over any boundaries because Lexa doesn’t look particularly upset, but it still kind of sucks. It makes sense to Clarke, though. Lexa’s just broken up with Costia, and she’s probably hurt. Healing takes time, but wow she’s making it really hard for Clarke not to drool over her when she dresses like this and charms Raven with her smart mouth and excitement at winning. Even Octavia had loosened on her grudge against Lexa, and that says a lot because Blakes know how to hold a grudge (Clarke got lucky with the dating Bellamy thing, really).

“Really Clarke,” Lexa says as the cold night air hits them. “Thank you for inviting me, I had a really good time tonight.”

Clarke smiles, pleased that Lexa enjoyed herself. “Of course. I’m glad Raven didn’t scare you away, she’s...well, you saw her.”

The striker laughs, shaking her head. “I like her, she’s great - so are her tacos.”

“I told you,” the blonde grins, coming to a stop as they reach Lexa’s car.

Lexa tugs at her beanie to fix it properly on her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow in class, and then we’ll meet up Thursday to go over the project one more time?”

Clarke nods, shoving her hands into the pocket of her hoodie. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

The striker opens her car door, then looks at the blonde. “Goodnight Clarke.”

She could kiss her right now. She could really do it. Or at least a kiss on the cheek, that one may go over better. Clarke wants to, oh God she wants to so badly. Lexa’s dumb beanie makes her look so irresistibly cute. All she has to do is take a step forward and lean towards her.

“Goodnight Lexa,” she says instead, offering a small smile. She reaches out and touches Lexa’s arm gently instead. “Drive safe.”

Lexa gives her a smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes and she shifts in her seat, forcing Clarke’s fingers to fall. Clarke, for her part, does her best to pretend she didn’t notice it.

“Text me when you get back to your apartment.”

“I will, go back inside. It’s so cold.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Clarke walks away as Lexa pulls out of her parking spot and drives off.

(She tries not to think about how Lexa tries to avoid her touch.)

* * *

Lexa really needs Clarke to stop looking at her like she’s the best thing in the damn world. It’s really fucking with her brain. With finals coming up, Lexa would really appreciate if things were easier in her love life. Not that she really  _ has _ a love life because Clarke is currently taken.

And yet somehow she’s ended up on the roof of the library with Clarke. It’s cold and windy and not at all what she thought she’d be doing in the middle of the week, but Clarke had asked her if she wanted to go on an adventure in between classes and Lexa already knew her answer because Clarke was looking at her with wide, excited eyes and a mischievous smile.

It was a losing battle from the beginning.

“Costia must’ve been something special,” Clarke finally says in a low, careful voice.

They’ve been sitting in silence for at least ten minutes, so the sound of Clarke’s voice surprises Lexa almost as much the question itself.

“What makes you say that?” Lexa asks, turning her head to face Clarke.

“You must’ve really loved her if you decided to get back together with her,” Clarke says, turning to Lexa. “I think it takes a lot for you trust someone, and even more to trust them again.”

Lexa doesn’t say anything for a moment, simply amazed by how well Clarke has figured her out. “You’re right,” she finally admits. “About both. She was something special, and it takes a lot for me to trust someone.”

“Did history repeat itself?” Clarke asks gently, her voice hinting that if she’s crossing any boundaries Lexa’s more than welcome to end the conversation.

“No,” the brunette replies. “It didn’t - things weren’t...mutually agreed on the first time.”

“How long had the two of you been dating?”

“Almost three years? We’d known each other since the beginning of high school, though.”

“Wow, that’s a lot of time.”

“I was convinced she was the love of my life. It all seemed to make perfect sense in my head.”

Clarke watches her for a moment, and Lexa can feel it. She can feel Clarke looking at her carefully, trying to read her emotions. Lexa takes a shaky breath, willing herself not to tear up as she thinks about it.

“Did she think so?”

“I think she did for awhile,” Lexa sighs. “But I came here and she went to Villanova. I tried so hard, Clarke. I was so in love with her and I was willing to go the distance for her.”

Clarke watches Lexa’s eyes as she speaks, eyes that don’t look at her but at the sky instead. Those green eyes are so passionate, they’re flaring with emotions with every sentence she speaks and Clarke wonders if Lexa will ever speak about her like that.

“But she became distant. My texts went unanswered, calls typically to voicemail. It was weeks before I was able to actually talk to her.”

“What did she say?”

Lexa smiles, but it’s sad and doesn’t make her eyes light up like Clarke knows they can. “She said she didn’t think that it was worth it, that I was worth it. It wasn’t enough for her to continue our relationship.”

“Oh Lexa,” Clarke frowns, scooting closer to her.

“So she ended it,” Lexa continues, pulling her knees to her chest - in part she does it to keep warm, but the other is because it’s still hard to remember. “And not too long after, I found out she had already started seeing someone else.”

“That’s terrible,” Clarke tells her. “I can’t believe she did that to you, Lexa. You deserve so much better.”

“I was broken for a while,” the brunette says, looking at her. “But I got over her. I was moving on with my life.”

_ I was starting something new with you _ , Lexa doesn’t add.

“And then she came up to you after the game,” Clarke says for her, filling in the pieces she knows.

The forward nods. “I didn’t have any intention of going back to her, but I was scared. I was scared and there she was, the girl I could’ve sworn was the love of my life. She was familiar and wanting me back and wanting to make up for her mistakes. So I let her.”

Clarke only nods, unsure of what to say at first. What resonates with her is that Lexa was scared, and fear drove her back to Costia. Fear of what? Clarke? Of repeating history with someone else? 

“It was fine, everything about our second try was fine. It just...wasn’t enough for either of us this time around.”

“Lexa,” Clarke says carefully, like the girl’s name is something to be said with high regard. “You’re worth every second of time, okay? You’re this amazing girl who can play soccer and writes amazing poetry, and when you trust someone you’re all in, and you’re intelligent and caring and-I’m trying to say Costia was wrong about you not being worth it. Because you are.”

Somehow they’ve gotten so close Lexa can see the rise and fall of Clarke’s chest and notice just how blue those eyes are. Those said blue eyes are looking at Lexa like they’ve been looking at her for who knows how long - with pure and unfiltered affection - and it makes Lexa heart beat erratically out of tune. She doesn’t understand how Clarke can say these things and look at her like this while being happy with Bellamy. It makes absolutely no sense in her mind, but yet here Clarke is, looking at Lexa like no one else matters as much as she does.

She swears she’s making it up when Clarke’s eyes flicker down to her lips and back up to meet her gaze.

This is dangerous. So so dangerous.

She’s saved before she can do something stupid when Clarke’s phone rings.

The girl leans away from Lexa, grabbing it from her backpack. She squints at the caller ID before looking at Lexa. “It’s Bellamy, I-”

“Go ahead,” Lexa immediately blurts out, standing. “I have class soon anyway. I should get going.”

Clarke gives her a strange look but obliges, pressing the phone to her ear with a “Hey Bell.”

Lexa escapes quickly down into the staircase and almost sprints her way back to the ground.

(Why would Clarke even look at her like that? Lexa wasn’t about to stop her from answering her boyfriend’s call. It’s not like - no, Clarke was not about to put her boyfriend on hold for Lexa. No. That was definitely not it.)

* * *

To no one’s surprise, they earn an A+ on their semester long project. Clarke is better at speaking French than when she started, but it’s still nothing compared to Lexa. With their project out of the way and classes almost finished, she’s running out of excuses to see the star forward. And she knows she’ll see her in the spring for the second semester French class and that Octavia is her teammate and all, but Clarke feels like she’s running out of time.

“Just ask her out on a fucking date already,” Octavia not-so-helpfully tells her, rolling her eyes.

“Where’s that Griffin charm?” Raven adds.

Clarke groans. “But what if she’s still not completely over Costia?”

“Clarke,” Raven says seriously. “Have you seen the way she looks at you? She’s fine. She’s a big girl.”

“But-”

“-and now it’s time for you to be a big girl too,” the mechanic says, crossing her arms. “You already let her get away from you last time.”

“Ask her out on a fucking date already,” the freshman repeats, glaring at Clarke. “Stop being a baby.”

So she does.

Kind of.

Technically.

Maybe she just says they should go get lunch in celebration of their A+ and (for Clarke) managing to not fail her first semester for French. Lexa happily agrees and Clarke smiles her goofy smile and tells her she’ll pick her up. It’s casual and nerve-wrecking but she does it and Lexa’s still looking at her with her lip quirked up so that’s something.  
  


Georgetown has not yet shown promise of a winter wonderland, with temperatures staying mildly cold, but not cold enough for snow. They walk around after lunch for a bit, and Lexa enjoys her time being spent with Clarke. 

(She doesn’t think about how Clarke paid for lunch without giving Lexa so much as a chance to pull out her wallet.)

She knows the days are numbered until Clarke returns back home and Lexa stays here with Anya. She knows back home means Bellamy and she’s trying her best to be okay with it because she wants Clarke to be happy, but it’s extremely hard when Clarke keeps brushing their shoulders together when they walk.

“Raven wants you over for another Taco Tuesday,” Clarke says.

“The semester is over, and I also have finals to study for,” Lexa tells her.

“She wants to beat you at Scrabble, or any game really,” she chuckles.

“Well, good luck to her,” Lexa snorts. “Octavia hasn’t even beaten me yet.”

Clarke laughs at the way her chest puffs out at the statement.

Lexa smiles at the sound of her laugh.

Clarke says stupid things and Lexa’s quick to point out she’s wrong, and that Lexa, is in fact, right. She makes the banter easy and quick, both of them going back and forth with comments that anyone else can see as flirting, but the two of them only understand as their typical conversations. Lexa senses that Clarke is a little different today, that she’s maybe nervous, but Lexa can’t for the life of her understand why.

(She blames it on finals coming up.)

“I’ll walk you up to your door,” Clarke suggests, pulling into the visitors’ parking.

“You don’t have to Clarke.”

“I want to,” she smiles.

“Okay,” Lexa nods at the sight of the smile, hopping out of the jeep.

It’s mostly silent the trip up to Lexa’s apartment door. Clarke follows behind her and Lexa can feel her nerves radiating off of her it suddenly makes her nervous for a reason she doesn’t even understand. 

They slow to a stop in front of apartment number 302, and Clarke shoves her hands into her pockets and Lexa tucks her wavy hair behind her ears. There’s something in the air she just can’t seem to put a finger on.

“Clarke, are you alright?” she finally asks.

“Never better,” Clarke answers coolly, giving her a smile.

Lexa nods slowly, not quite believing it. “Right. Well, thank you for lunch, Clarke. That was sweet of you.”

“Of course,” Clarke shrugs. “I had a nice time today.”

“Me too. I needed that before finals start.”

Clarke only hums and they hang around in silence again. Lexa waits for Clarke to say goodbye, Clarke waits for her to tell her to leave.

The weird tension in the air only grows.

Finally, Lexa gives in.

“Okay enough,” she states with a frown. “What’s the matter, Clarke? You’ve been nervous all day, and before you say it’s nothing, I know it’s not. I’ve noticed you’ve been weird all day. You know you can talk to me, Clarke. Really, I feel like you’re-”

She’s cut off by a pair of lips meeting hers, slightly chapped but still so sweet. She’s frozen only for a moment before she completely melts into Clarke and kisses her back, soft and sweet. This is nothing like the first time they kiss. The first time it was hard and needy and desperate. This time it’s slowly and gentle. She feels Clarke’s fingers caress her cheek while the other hand tugs at Lexa’s jacket, pulling her closer. The kiss is getting deeper and Lexa can feel herself wanting all of Clarke, wanting her closer in every sense of the word. She needs Clarke, she has to touch Clarke, has to have her pressed up against Lexa.

She wants to give in.

She wants Clarke.

But Clarke has a boyfriend.

“Clarke,” she gasps, her hands pushing at Clarke’s shoulders to put space between them, to give her space from the one thing she wants the most.

Clarke opens her eyes and her eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Lexa?”

“Don’t you…” Lexa trails off, taking a breath. “What about Bellamy?”

“What about Bellamy?” Clarke echoes, tilting her head with her brows still scrunched together.

Lexa frowns. “Aren’t you together?”

“What?” Clarke asks.

“I saw you two...when we came back from Thanksgiving. You and him, you were...you looked like…”

Lexa’s so incredibly confused she doesn’t even know what to say.

Clarke stares at her for another moment until it finally clicks. She shakes her head, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. “Bellamy and I are better off as friends,” she explains, hand reaching out to tug at Lexa’s jacket again. “We’re not dating, Lexa.”

The forward allows herself to be pulled back towards Clarke, blinking as she processes the new information.

“You’re not?”

Suddenly it all makes sense. Clarke was never trying to confuse her. She wasn’t just a friend who was being super sweet to Lexa. She had been testing out boundaries, trying to tell Lexa in her quiet way that yes, even after going back to Costia, Clarke still wants her.

Clarke, who looks looks at her like she put the stars in the sky.

Clarke, who told her she’s worth it.

Clarke, who patiently waited for Lexa, didn’t rush her into anything.

“No,” Clarke laughs softly.

(God, Lexa loves her laugh.)

“I’ve been too busy falling for someone else,” she tells Lexa in a hushed whisper.

Lexa’s heart beats so loud she’s convinced Clarke can hear it. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Clarke nods. “She’s got these pretty green eyes, holds a world full of emotions in them. She’s apparently one of the best soccer players in the East. Don’t let the badass persona on the field fool you though, she’s the biggest poetry nerd I know.”

The forward rests her forehead against Clarke’s, unable to stop the smile from spreading on her face. Clarke’s hands are now resting comfortably at her waist and Lexa just wants to pass out right now because god damn Clarke’s whispering about the girl she likes and it sounds a lot like her.

“Is she good at French?” Lexa asks.

“ _ Oui _ ,” Clarke grins. “ _ Elle est très belle, aussi _ .”

Lexa can’t help the girlish giggle that escapes her, arms wrapping around Clarke’s shoulders. “She sounds great.”

“Oh she is,” Clarke agrees.

“She must be a lucky girl to snag someone like you,” Lexa admits, full out grinning now.

“I think I’m the lucky one.”

Lexa leans in and presses her mouth soundly against Clarke’s, unable to stop smiling through their kiss. Clarke lets out a chuckle, but it only results in Lexa searching for more. Clarke presses her up against the wall, hands now firmly on Lexa’s hips.

They don’t hear the door open.

“Oh fuck!”

Lexa’s the first to react, pushing Clarke hard and fast, leaving the poor girl to stumble backwards.

“Ow,” Clarke mumbles.

“Anya,” Lexa says, staring at her sister as her cheeks redden and her eyes go wide.

Initially taken by surprise, Anya’s signature smirk finds its place as she crosses her arms in delight. “Well, look what we have here.”

“Oh my god,” Lexa groans, her head hitting the wall behind her.

“It’s about fucking time kids,” Anya grins. “Don’t mind me. I was just going to go run down and get something from the front desk.”

“I fucking hate you,” Lexa growls, but Clarke only laughs and pulls Lexa towards her, wrapping her up in her arms.

Lexa continues to groan and whine, but she’s losing the fight to hide her smile.

Clarke Griffin is holding her in her arms and placing kisses on her head.

There’s really no place she’d rather be.

* * *

It’s cold and raining.

Clarke looks outside and admires the rain, watches as it hits the window before sliding down. Something about the rain is calming, she she thinks that’s an emotion that can accurately describe her right now.

She’s sprawled on the bed on her stomach, sketchpad in front of her and pencil in her hand. Her current artwork is a portrait of Lexa from a polaroid she took just a few days ago. It’s only half-done, and Clarke eagerly continues to sketch on.

She hears a soft hum by her side and she looks up and immediately smiles at what she sees.

Lexa’s got her hair loosely tied up and her big glasses on. She’s sitting with her back leaning against the pillows and headboards, knees up and she balancing a notebook in her lap. Her pen is working quickly, forming words that have been predetermined in Lexa’s mind. The way this whole process works: the way Lexa’s face is in pure concentration, biting her lip when she questions a word choice or when she can’t remember what she was about to write. It’s all perfect.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Clarke laughs, holding up the piece of film. “I already do babe, all the time.”

Lexa simply rolls her eyes, but a smile appears on her face anyway. “You’re a dork.”

“You love it,” the blonde shrugs, placing the film back down on the bed and pushing herself up into a sitting position.

“Clarke, you’re being a distraction,” Lexa frowns, staring hard at her words.

Clarke scoffs, crossing her arms. “What are you talking about? I’m your inspiration.”

The brunette looks up from her notebook and when she finds the pouting Clarke, her expression softens. “Yeah, you are.”

Clarke doesn’t know how on earth she’s been lucky enough to wake up to this face every morning. She doesn’t understand how Lexa smiles at her like she’s the most important thing on this entire planet. She doesn’t know why Lexa puts up with her silly statements and terrible French.

She doesn’t get how any of it has come to be, but she doesn’t question it.

Not when Lexa’s looking at her like this.

Not when she knows for a fact she’s looking at Lexa the same way.

Clarke hates group projects.

She hates relying on other people for grades.

But damn, did she have a huge thank you for her professor last semester for assigning that group project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I first came up with this idea, I didn't realize how big this fic would end up being. I didn't really see myself writing actual clexa fics, but yet here we are. Thank you to everyone's who's read, commented, given kudos and bookmarked. I hope you enjoyed the story and are happy that these two dorks are finally together. If you want to yell at me some more about anything clexa hit me up on tumblr @shimshots. (also i should've said this in the beginning, but the title is from go radio's song "goodnight moon" go listen to it, so good)


End file.
